The Adventure Continues
by Tom Hudspeth
Summary: Monthly series about Federation/Klingon Starbase 410 in the Triangle during and after the Dominin War
1. Part 1 Infestation

First, a little explanation about this story.  This story appears in a monthly Star Trek Fan club magazine.  Each chapter is read a month apart. As such, it is written in a series format.  You will notice as you read, that the chapters do not flow smoothly into one another, there is a lot of repetition, there are drastic storyline changes and each chapter should end with a hook to get the reader to come back next month.  When read as a whole work, which I hope you will want to do, it will not appear as originally intended.  It will show it's structural faults.  This is not an excuse, but a warning.  

The next thing I want the reader to know is the background.  I started this as the fan club story, and some of the names are real people.  Also, this was an experiment for me.  A chance to try some things out with an audience.  That is also why this is presented here on Fanfiction.net, so I can get some feedback on what works and what doesn't. When you are done, please leave some constructive advice on what you thought was both good and bad.  It will only help to improve future chapters.

It seems silly, but I guess I should mention that I don't own the Star Trek franchise, so there.  Hope you enjoy.   Tom Hudspeth

The Adventure Continues…. Part 1

The section of space known as "The Triangle", where the Federation, Klingon and Romulan star empires all meet, is a place where civilizations and egos clash.  It is a contested, and congested, area of space, with commerce vessels and warships roughly equaling each other.

Near the end of the Dominion War with the inhabitants of the Gamma Quadrant, the newly re-forged alliance of the United Federation of Planets and the Klingon Star Empire, decided to build a project to protect both of their interests in the Triangle, and to re-supply their ships in the war against the Dominion.  

That project was Starbase 410, a giant "Guardian Class" space station.  Located near the "ram qul", or Night Fire, nebula, and integrating the latest in Klingon-Federation technology, it was a totally self-sufficient bastion of peace, and a guardian of civilization in the troublesome "Triangle", where tempers were often short, and trigger fingers even shorter.

Lt. Commander Brian Starr deflected the incoming Bat'leth with his sword and spun on the ball of his foot, executing a perfect draw cut to the left across the Klingon's belly. Reaping wheat.  As the Klingon doubled over, Brian chopped down through his neck, decapitating him.  Splitting wood.  Brian scarcely paused, one enemy down, as he confronted the next onrushing alien.  This one foolishly held his Bat'leth above his head for a downward cut.  At the last second, Brian sidestepped his foe and delivered a cut across his back, severing the Klingon's spinal cord.  Beating rug.  On came the next attacker.

In a small portion of Brian Starr's mind, he sensed the next attack, figured out the probable tactic the enemy would use, and came up with a way to counter it and deliver a killing blow.  This analysis was completed, and the proper actions put into motion, without conscious thought.  For him, time had slowed.  Brian had reached the "One", a meditative state the people of his home planet, Avalon, had developed after years of personal training and combat.  

Avalon was an earth colony that had been settled by people who revered the ancient chivalric codes and feudal society of old medieval Europe.  The men, if born into the nobility, were trained from a young age to fight.  They were taught to protect women and the weak.  Brian and his brothers had been schooled in the ways of courtly manners, treating women as delicate beings who might break if treated too roughly.  The women were taught to be submissive and proper ladies, with schooling limited to what they needed to know to run a household.  Unfortunately, while creating excellent fighters, the society was also prone to chauvinism, stoicism, and machismo.  It often left the men with no clue how to handle off-world women.

While in the state of "One", Brian Starr ceased being just a Lt. Commander in Starfleet, and became an almost perfect killing machine, almost tireless, his weapon and body as "One".  A Klingon first lost his arm, and then on the follow-up swing, his life.  Drawing water.

"Let your conscious thoughts go," Brian's instructor had always told him, "that's why it's called the 'One'".  

"Fine," young Brian had replied, "I'll stop thinking".  

"No," came the calm reply, "just let your mind relax and take you on a journey of discovery.  Your thoughts will trace the roots of your problems and open your mind up like a flower to new solutions.  You will perceive the world with the eyes of an eagle, the courage of a lion and the wisdom of an Owl."  

He could still think in this state, and right now his thoughts were unusually clouded.  The clarity of thought he usually reached would not come.  Brian deflected another Bat'leth and drew his sword over his opponent's belly, this time to the right instead of the left.  Sowing grain.  This put him within thrusting range of the next Klingon, just as he had planned.  Pitching hay. But then, he mused, his thoughts were never clear when he thought of Lt. Commander S'ena.  

They had last served together aboard the U.S.S. Judith A. Resnik some years ago as ensigns fresh out of the Starfleet Academy, but he had never forgotten her.  Half human and half Orion, it seemed that she had inherited the best from both worlds.  Physically, S'ena looked like her father's Orion half: green skin, lustrous hair, supple body, and dancer's legs.  She had also inherited his Orion pheromone system.  She unconsciously emanated her feelings by smells.  Smells which could have an affect on most animal life forms.  Mentally, she took after her mother's human half: intelligent, witty and friendly, but withdrawn, with a strange empathy for plants and animals.  All together, she was what any man could wish for, including Brian Starr.  

Unfortunately, that was part of the problem, every man wanted her.  Brian couldn't conceive of her still being unattached.  The only reason he had had any success at becoming her friend on the Resnik was because he had resisted his body's urges to take their relationship any farther.  It hadn't been easy for him to resist her, but one by one, he had watched as all the other men on the crew tried, and failed, to win her heart.  This helped steel him to control his desires, and it paid off.  Eventually S'ena approached him, and confided that she appreciated what a good friend Brian was.  She liked him because he had never made a move for her!  That of course told Brian that he never could make a move, or he would destroy the friendship he had worked so hard to forge.  It was while caught in this delimma that they both received orders to different starships, but he had never forgotten her soft dark eyes, sexy smile or winning personality.  

The Klingon's were still coming, but this time they came in a pair.  His mind noted the disparity.  Brian faked towards one, stepped towards the other, thrust him in the heart, (as if Klingon's had a heart, he mused).  Gathering eggs.  The remaining Klingon, seeing an opening in Brian's guard, leaped forward, only to die by Brian's sword as he drew it out of the first Klingon, waited until the second Klingon was committed, stepped aside, and decapitated him.  Storing dishes.

He hadn't seen her again until today, and then only by chance on the promenade.  He was sure she hadn't seen him.  When he tried to catch her, she disappeared into the crowd.  He wasn't sure how to approach her now anyway.  He'd only recently been assigned to Starbase 410, and they worked in different departments on the large starbase.  It was no wonder that they hadn't run into each other sooner, but he had been on board a month before finding out she was here.  Usually, she was in all the gossip when she first came aboard. The men wanted to know how to meet her, and the women wanted to know how to beat her.  Brian hamstrung a Klingon, sweeping floor, and thrust him in the back when he fell over.  Churning butter.

When had they stopped writing each other?  It must have been right after Wolf 359.  Other than to ensure each one was alive, times had been too busy since then, first with the Borg, and then with the Dominion.  They had lost touch.  Maybe....

"T'Pina to Commander Starr"

The "One" burst like a bubble.  Suddenly time returned to normal with a vengeance.  Klingon blows rained down around Brian like a flood.  It was all he could do to defend himself.  First, one blow got through on his leg, then another on his side.  As pain gripped him, his sword out of position, he looked up to see his deathblow.

"Computer! Freeze program!" Brian yelled.

All movement in the holodeck stopped.  Hoards of computer generated Klingons stood ready to kill or be killed.  Many lay still as if dead already, which is what they would have been had they been real, instead of holographic images.

"Starr here, Captain."

"I need to see you as soon as possible about a discrepancy in one of your reports."

"I've been exercising, I'll need to shower and change."

"Fine, I'll expect you at my office in 12.6 minutes.  T'Pina out."

The planet culture of Avalon didn't allow for using expletives, but Brian could begin to see the need for them in space.

"Computer, end program." He said as he rushed from the room.

            Lt. Commander S'ena's new assignment to Starbase 410 was both good, and bad, she reflected.  On the one hand, she would miss the weekly opportunity she had on a starship to see strange plants and animals on every new planet.  She already missed the camaraderie of the friends she had left behind.  But on the other hand, she could make all new friends on the starbase, and her new private lab was actually state-of-the-art, and big!  She had lots more room for her pets and projects.  Many of the plants and animals she had brought with her were settling in just fine.  

Her hexcat, Catastrophe, or Tass, for when he wasn't in trouble, which was rare, was making himself right at home investigating and generally getting in everybody's way.  Most people now just avoided her lab when they knew he was there.  If you can imagine a normal terran feline with an extra set of legs and an even higher amount of curiosity, you can get close to what a hexcat is like to have around.  Throw in faster speed, suction cup footing for ducking around corners, and the ability to climb flat walls at a run, and you can see why few people keep them for pets.  Still, he was well behaved for S'ena, and fun to have around.

The one creature she was worried about was the new one she had picked up at Deep Space 9.  The bartender there had called it a tribble, and had warned her not to feed it much.  She had found out why before she even got to the station!  She was only just able to lower the tiny creature's metabolism in time for it to re-absorb the dozen offspring it was about to give birth to.  

It was also the reason Captain T'Pina, the station's Executive Officer, had assigned her duties as Quarantine Officer for Starbase 410, since tribbles, it turned out, where: 1. Extinct and 2. Considered by Starfleet to be dangerous.  Well, the first had obviously been wrong, and she was still investigating the reasons for the second.  Captain T'Pina had lectured her about the transport of dangerous creatures, and had told her to bone up on the appropriate Starfleet regulations, since she had just volunteered for the job of inspecting all plants and animals brought onto the station.  Well, S'ena couldn't think of a better job for her!

S'ena picked up and stroked the soft ball of fur.  Even though it's metabolism was still slowed, it cooed in a pleasing manner.  How could something so nice be considered dangerous?  Sure, they bred faster than space herpes, but she figured she could fix that if she tweaked a gene here and swapped a gene there....

She put the creature carefully back into its cage and reached for her data padd.  Yes, she thought, take a gene from this creature, add in some random variations.  Of course she couldn't experiment on her original subject...  Now S'ena regretted her earlier decision.  Well, first thing she had to do was make more subjects.  Fortunately, that didn't look like it would be a problem, or take that much time....

Brian Starr arrived at T'Pina's office in exactly 12.5 minutes.  Silently congratulating himself on beating her time estimate, he chimed her door.

"Enter" came a crisp and proper Vulcan response. 

The door opened to reveal Captain T'Pina in her usual pose, hunched over her computer terminal reading reports.  A debilitating engineering explosion during the attack at Wolf 359 had left her permanently injured, though nothing showed except for a limp, and the cane she used to get around.  Not a bad trade for the lives of the crew on the ship she had saved.  Unfortunately she had to give up normal shipboard activities, so instead of resigning from Starfleet, she accepted a desk job at Starbase 410.  Now she kept the large station fed and supplied from her desk.  Not unlike a spider in the middle of its web, Brian thought.  She looked up and acknowledged Brian's presence with an arched eyebrow.

"I see you are early."

"Yes Captain, how can I help you."

T'Pina handed Brian a data pad.  On it was his report on a grain shipment of quadro-triticale the starbase had received yesterday.  It was scheduled to be moved to General K'batlh's Klingon Battlecruiser, the I.K.V. Hegh qaD, over an hour ago.  The Battlecruiser was permanently assigned to Starbase 410 as part of the Klingon-Federation alliance.  The General was supposed to take it to K'Dorn, a Klingon world on the border with Cardasian space.  Not a glorious mission, but a necessary one for the war ravaged planet of K'Dorn.

T'Pina then handed Brian a second data padd, this one a report from the Hegh qaD written in Klingon.  Brian looked up at T'Pina questioningly.

"Press the translator key Commander."

"Oh, yes." Brian hurriedly complied.

The Klingon script disappeared and was replaced with Federation standard words and symbols.  Brian quickly scanned the document.

"This report shows a volume discrepancy of 100 kilos." Brian said.

"How would you explain it?" T'Pina asked.

Brian thought for a minute.  "I would suggest a sensor or transporter miss-alignment, either here or on the Hegh qaD.  Since I know that isn't the case with the station's equipment, I checked it out prior to beaming the grain to the hold, I would guess the Hegh qaD's equipment is faulty."

"And if I told you the General felt the same way about his equipment as you feel about yours?" T'Pina asked.

"Then if neither set is at fault, I would have to say that someone or something stole the grain from the hold.  But why only 100 kilos?" Brian wondered.

"I don't know, but I want to know.   K'Dorn needs every grain of quadro-triticale we can send it and more." T'Pina said.  "There will be more shipments coming in and I want this matter settled before the Commodore gets back from her away mission."

"Can I ask the nature of the Commodore 's mission, Captain?"

"No, you may not." T'Pina said curtly.  "I want that report as soon as possible, dismissed."

"Yes ma'am." Brian said as he turned for the door.

"And Commander."

Brian turned at the doorway.

"Had you taken the extra .1 minute to check yourself in the mirror before you left your quarters, you would have seen that your comm badge was upside down.  Attention to detail has saved more starships than trying to impress a superior."

"Yes ma'am."

Sheepishly, Brian turned and left the office.  The day was not going well...

Deep in the bowels of the space station, in places that normally never heard the sound of human footsteps, Brian roamed.  Hold A127-D87 should have been right around the corner after A127-D88, but the sadist that designed Starbase 410 wasn't going to let Brian off that easy.  He knew he should have just transported straight to the hold, but T'Pina probably would have thought it a waste of energy.  As if a starbase the size of 410 couldn't spare a little energy for just one transport.  Well, two, if he wanted to get out again.

Eventually, Brian found the correct hold one level down.  He spared a moment to note that whomever originally placed the designation placards on the cargo holds, did so with the horizontal position before the vertical, instead of the galactic standard of vertical before the horizontal.  Of course, they would all have to be changed.  

Oh, joy, he thought. One guess as to who T'Pina will find for that thankless chore. 

"Computer, open the airlock on hold A127-D87 please."

"Please enter authorization code."

"Starr 2B-R0-2B"

"Confirmed."

The airlock slid open with a hiss as the air inside the hold equaled with the pressure of the air in the hallway.  Brian's hair ruffled in the slight breeze.  The interior of the hold was dark and cavernous.

"Lights"

Instantly the storage area was filled with bright light, revealing every corner of the now empty hold.  Brian stepped in and walked to the middle of the hold.  His footsteps echoed in the huge cavernous space.  Taking out his tricorder, he started his examination. The floor showed the faint traces of the transporter pad buried in it.  The walls were smooth and solid.  As he crossed back towards the center, he felt a slight breeze.  Brian looked up into the bright lights.

"Computer, dim the lights by 35% please."

Instead of bright and sunny, the lights dimmed as if a cloud had passed over the sun.  In the roof of the hold were light panels and ventilation shafts.

Well, he thought, I'd better look up there too.

Brian stepped back into the hallway and retreated down it to a maintenance room.  Once there, he found an antigravity platform, and some tools used to change the light panels.  When he returned to the cargo hold, Brian clipped the remote control to his waist, and turned on the platform.  The platform rose off of the floor about 3 centimeters, and its telltale status lights blinked green.  Brian stepped onto the platform and gave the command for it to raise.

One by one, Brian inspected the light panels and ventilation shafts for security and tampering.  He could not find anything wrong, except for a bit of dried slime on one of the shafts.  Taking his tricorder from his waist, he scanned the remains of the slime.

Later, back in the occupied sections of the station, Brian approached the Xenobiology department.  As he neared the doors to the lab, they opened to reveal...  S'ena!

He stopped dead in his tracks and gaped.  At sight of him, she ran forward and jumped into his arms, giving him a very unprofessional hug.  Her pheromones engulfed him and he felt immense pleasure and happiness.

"Brian!  It's so good to see you again!  It's been sooo long!  How long has it been?  Did you miss me? When did you come aboard?  I've only been here a week.  Are you stationed here?  Won't it be great to work together again?  I can't wait to show you...."

Brian stood in awe.  She was as beautiful now as she had ever been, if not more so.  His mind, unable to function with the surprise, slipped into the "One".  But the unconscious portion of his combat skills could only come up with nonsense as well.  Running rabbit.  Panicked chicken.  Spitting kitten.  One by one, ludicrous plans flowed uselessly through his mind.  How embarrassing.  Brian could hear, as if from a far distance away, a conversation.

"Quick, do something!" 

"She's cheating!  She's using her pheromones!"

"Well, I don't know what to do."

"He won't respond."

"He is too responding, just not the right way!"

"If you've got any ideas, I'll try them."

"This is not a combat situation!"

"Uh oh!, she stopped talking and wants a response."

"What did she ask?"

"How should I know?"

"Check the short term memory!"

"Oh, yes.  Nope, won't work either.  It shut off at the same time as he saw her."

"He's got to say something!"

As the shock of seeing, and smelling, S'ena so suddenly began to wear off, Brian slowly realized that the conversation was taking place inside his head.  Shut up both of you! he thought to himself, I'll handle this now.

When S'ena felt Brian stiffen from slipping into the "One", she released him and took a step back.  When he didn't respond to her questions she started to pout, that always put men on the defensive and let them know she needed attention right away.  She didn't understand, most men would have been drooling for her by now, Brian just stood there, gaping, like a fish.

"Yes!" Brian finally said, taking a chance that that was the correct response.  Apparently it was, because S'ena stopped pouting and began to smile again.

The small voice in the back of his mind yelled, "Great! Now follow up by saying something complementary!"

Brian released the "One", and decided honesty was the best policy.

"I'm sorry, I was just so surprised by your beauty, that I couldn't think for a minute.  I'm still shook up.  When did you say you got here?"

S'ena's elation was plain to see.  He still likes me!, she thought.  Then she turned mother hen.

"Well come into my lab and sit down for a minute." She said as she grabbed his arm and ushered him inside.

The lab was full of cages and plant growth trays.  All forms of alien creatures and plants squeaked, squawked, trilled, whistled, honked, eked, screeched, and made a few other sounds that weren't even in Federation Standard yet.  S'ena sat Brian down in the only chair, and began to dance around the lab, going from one tray or cage to the next, in an effort to calm her charges.  

As Brian began to relax, a heavy weight suddenly descended upon the center of his back, pushing him to the floor.  He rolled with the fall and came up in a defensive crouch.  Sitting comfortably on Brian's former chair was Catastrophe, looking as if he had been there for a long time.  He hissed at Brian as if to say, "This is my chair, you can't have it!"

"Sorry, Tass." Brian said. "You can have it, I'll just make myself comfortable right here on the floor."  Brian sat down on the floor and stared at Tass, trying to intimidate him.  Tass began to wash himself.

"Oh Brian, you're so thoughtful," S'ena said as she returned.  "But really, he's just a hexcat, you shouldn't move for him.  He'll just get spoiled."

S'ena picked up Tass, gave him a quick hug, and shooed him on his way.  The hexcat glared at Brian, as if it was his fault!

Brian picked himself up off of the floor and looked at S'ena.  Her big soft eyes threatened to pull him into the depths of her soul.  No!  That was the surest way to lose her.

"I thought you were serving on the U.S.S. Layton." Brian said.

"I was, until the Dominion put her into dry-dock.  What about you?  What brings you to this neck of the galaxy?"

"Same story.  The Harrington took one too many hits during the retaking of Deep Space 9, only she wasn't salvageable.  A lot of good friends died."

A depressing silence lingered over the two of them as they both reflected on comrades lost and gone forever.

S'ena, never one to be sad for long, said, "No silly, I meant what brought you to the Xenobiology Lab?  Did you come looking for me?"

"Yes, I mean, no.  I saw you yesterday on the promenade, but I couldn't catch you in the crowd.  I should have figured out where to find you, but in reality, I came here to find out what this substance is."  Brian showed S'ena the scraping of slime he had collected.

"Well, what have we here?" S'ena asked as she took the sample.

"I had hoped that you could tell me.  My tricorder says it's biological, but can't decide if it's plant or animal."

S'ena placed the sample on a slide, and placed it under a more powerful sensor unit.  She took a few readings and suddenly stiffened.

"Where did you say you got this sample?" she asked seriously.

"Down in one of the cargo holds, why?"

"Was it on the floor, or near any cracks?"

"It was at one of the ventilation shafts."

"Oh no!" Sena exclaimed.  "Computer, Initiate Quarantine Procedures C-7!"

"What is it S'ena?  Just what is this stuff?"

"This station just came down with a case of..."

"SPACE HERPES!?!"  Lt. Commander K'SQqwa SuDs'qan'ya, a Klingon serving in Starfleet as Starbase 410's head of station security, yelled.  "Are you serious!"

"Without a doubt." S'ena said at the senior staff briefing.

"What are your suggestions Commander?" T'Pina asked.

"Well, I've already instituted quarantine procedures C-7..."

"And boy is everyone mad!" quipped Major Madia Amme of the Bajoran Militia.

"...and that means that no one and nothing can beam off the station." S'ena finished.

General K'batlh growled, "Captain T'Pina, I and over half my crew are stuck on this station!  My transporters aren't working for some reason, and I can't run a Battlecruser from the middle of a starbase!  What would happen if we were attacked?  Who is going to deliver the grain to K'Dorn?"

T'Pina gave the Klingon General a cool stare.  "General, are you implying that your crew can't maintain your ship without you?  Are you suggesting that they aren't trained?  Do you lack confidence in your warrior's ability to handle the situation without you?"

"No! My crew is the finest in space and I'd put them up against any other ship in the galaxy, Cardasian or Federation."

"As to your questions," T'Pina continued, "When Commander S'ena implemented the quarantine procedures, transporter inhibitors came on all over the station.  That is why your transporters aren't working.  Now they can only be turned off by the Commodore, Commander S'ena or myself.  If the station is attacked, the Hegh qaD can fight or flee, as the General commands."  T'Pina's demeanor softened as she turned back towards K'batlh.  "Personally, I hope she stays." 

"The Hegh qaD would never run from a fight!"

"Good, that settled, what about the grain?"

"Captain," Madia answered, "Most of the transports bringing the grain can just continue on to K'Dorn.  We'll have to pay some heavy bribes, but the traders will chance the run if they know they'll be paid extra.  As for the shipment of quadro-triticale on board the Hegh qaD, provided it's not still infected, there are some old cargo containers still in far station orbit that the Hegh qaD could transport the grain to after they inspect it.  Then, the U.S.S. Rage could put a tractor beam on them and take them to K'Dorn.  It may take an extra day, but the grain would get there.  As you may know, the Rage was just returning from DS9 when the quarantine protocols went into effect, and was not affected by them.  The Rage could then stay at K'Dorn to inspect, or help guard, future shipments,."

"Good Major," T'Pina said, "With the General's permission...?"

"Granted."

"Fine, that's taken care of.  Now, Commander S'ena, what kind of contamination are we looking at?"

"Well, space herpes have an unknown planet of origin.  They are part plant and part animal.  Boneless, they are able to squeeze through cracks like water, leaving a trail of slime behind them.  They average in size from a 3 to 15 cm.  They are asexual, reproducing by dividing in half, and they breed like, well, like space herpes.  They absorb anything biological in nature, and can metabolize materials that would normally prove toxic.  Sensors can't pick them up, but tricorders can if within 2 to 3 meters.  They can't be deliberately beamed out, poisoned, stomped or cut to pieces.  Federation protocols suggest using tricorders to locate them, and phasers to burn them, in a deck by deck search.  But remember, all we need to do is miss one to wind up right back in the same situation."

"Quarantine procedures C-7 instituted force fields around most of the important vulnerable systems and allow for us to use the automatically activated intruder alert systems," K'SQqwa SuDs'qan'ya added.  "With your permission, Captain, we can activate the sentry phasers.  That ought to get a few of them." 

"We could equip some repair droids with tricorders and phasers to patrol the places we can't get to." Lt. John Cole suggested.

"Those sentry phasers aren't Federation policy, are they?" Major Madia asked.

"No, they were put in at the insistence of the Klingon engineers," K'SQqwa answered, "But the Commodore didn't fight against it."

"Have we found out how the space herpes got on to the station?" T'Pina asked.

"Captain," Brian spoke up, "As you might have deduced, they came on board with the first shipment of quadro-triticale. This is the reason for the 100 kilo volume discrepancy."

"The trader has been notified, and ordered to return here for decontamination.  We have also notified DS9 and all Federation aligned ships in the area." Madia added.

Brian nodded at the Bajoran Major and continued.  "They ate some of the grain, and then one or more escaped through the ventilation shafts."

"You mean some of these things could be on board the Hegh qaD?" K'batlh started.

"No!  At least we don't think so.  Our transporter records indicate that probably none were beamed over, but the organisms are not exactly easy to find on sensors."

"I'm going to have my crew check the ship." The General growled.

"We might as well plan with the idea that the Hegh qaD is contaminated as well." T'Pina said.

Commander K'SQqwa looked up.  "Could we use the transporter to get rid of these things?"

Brian shook his head. "No, unfortunately so far, we can only detect them after transport has taken place by examining the transport logs. But I think we could re-align the internal sensors to look for the slime trails, and then transport whatever was at the end creating them."

"Commander Starr," T'Pina decided, "I want you to get with the transporter chief and work on that.  I'd like to find a way to get the General and his crew back to their ship, and a way to decontaminate any future grain shipments.  But unless there is an emergency or an attack, I'm not going to authorize the termination of the transport inhibitors."

"Understood Captain."

"Commander K'SQqwa, I want you to start recruiting for a deck by deck decontamination.  Since they aren't going anywhere until this mess is cleaned up, with the General's permission of course, equip his men with tricorders and phasers.  That should keep them entertained and speed up the process."

General K'batlh nodded his head in agreement.  "Exterminating vermin is not exactly a fit job for a true warrior, but my men will cooperate."

"Commander S'ena, I want you to see to the programming of the tricorders and then work on the station sensors.  I refuse to believe that these things can't be picked up somehow."

"Understand this Ladies and Gentlemen, the Commodore will be back within the week, and I don't want to have to tell her she can't come aboard her own Starbase.  Dismissed!"

Back in the Xenobiology lab, Catastrophe was intrigued.  The container with the soft furballs, that the big one wouldn't let him play with, was filling up.  The big one had been playing with the original furball and wouldn't share it.  Ok, fine with him, but when she appeared with more furballs, and put them in the container with the grain, that was just too much.  She should have shared then, Tass thought.

Now the container was filling up and Tass was waiting to see how full it could get before it burst.  Curiosity was eating him alive, and finally he decided not to wait any more.  He sauntered up to the cage and "accidentally" knocked it over the side of the table.

When the cage hit the floor it came open, spilling furballs everywhere.  Oh, joy! Oh, rapture! Tass thought excitedly as he jumped down into their midst.

Suddenly, the mass of furballs started shrieking.  To the hexcat's sensitive ears, it was almost incapacitating.  Tass jumped out of the pile of furballs, and back on to the table.  From there, he leaped to the wall and ran to the far corner where the walls met the ceiling.  Huddled in the corner he reconsidered his position on furballs as play toys.  The big one can keep them all if she wants!

Hunger.  Move.  Sense.  No food.  Move.  Plant=food. Eat.  No food.  Hunger.  Move.  Sense.  Move.

Slowly the tribbles covered the lab, eating everything that they could find, except for the sharp slashing hexcat in the corner of the ceiling, and the things in cages they couldn't get out.  Where they found food, they ate and multiplied.  When they could find no more food, they found ways out of the lab and into the rest of the station.

Hunger.  Move.  Sense.  No food.  Hunger.  Move.  Sense.  No food. Hunger.  Move.  Sense.  No food...


	2. Part 2

The Adventure Continues…. Part 2

            In the dark pathways of the huge Guardian Class starbase designated 410, there is a lot of room to roam without meeting anyone or anything.  There are hallways, jefferies tubes, turbolifts, corridors, ventilation shafts, conduit lays and numerous other ways to get around, depending on your size.  Some places are big enough to park a shuttle craft in, and others, only a Webley could go.  But given large enough numbers of two different types of vermin, eventually one type will meet the other.  It is only a matter of time.

            So when the space herpe came up the airshaft in search of food, and the tribble came down the shaft in search of the same, it was little surprise that they found each other.  It was just bound to happen. 

            Figuring it was just another food source, the herpe jumped at the tribble, but what the herpe couldn't have known was that this was no ordinary harmless ball of fur, but a S'ena genetically modified ball of fur!  Somewhere in its new genetic makeup was buried something which changed the modified tribble from a harmless creature.  

            Move.  Sense.  Enemy?  Plant?  Plant=food.  Part plant.  Food!

            What followed next was a titanic struggle, though miniature in scale, as the space herpe tried to absorb the tribble, while the tribble merrily ate the herpe.  One of the random variations S'ena hadn't planed on was the wakening of a recessive gene which relaxed the sphincter muscles at the beginning of the tribbles stomach.  This allowed the stomach acids to leave the tribble's stomach, which was located adjacent to its mouth.  Once the acids were in its mouth, the tribble spat them out. Things started to digest before they even got into the tribble's mouth, a big time saver for a creature whose primary purposes in life were to eat and breed! And once they learned how to direct the acid spittle towards what they wished to consume, it didn't matter that they were slow.  The longer it took for them to reach their target, the more digested it was!

Learned Doctors, Scholars and Professors from all over the known galaxy will admit that while nothing breeds faster than space herpes, nothing is more voracious than a tribble.  Perhaps if the space herpe had divided, it might have conquered by using numbers against the tribble, but history will note that in the contest of the vermin of the galaxy, the tribble comes out on top!

            Move.  Sense.  More food.  Hunger.  Move.  Sense.  Hunger. Hunger.

            Mar'Peth was convinced that he was being wasted as a Klingon warrior.  Didn't that patakh of a Commander qu'bang LoDnI' realize how great a warrior Mar'Peth was?  Why, the Commander should bow down before Mar'Peth and beg for mercy, which Mar'Peth would grant by either killing her quickly, or taking her as his mate.  Then Mar'Peth would assume qu'bang's position in command as was his right.  Soon he would be recognized by General K'batlh as a true warrior, and be given a ship to command as his own.

            But until that happened, he was searching for vermin on a Federation Starbase, instead of ripping the throats out of Jem'Hadar.  Now where was the next bit of scum?  Mar'Peth did have to admit that the little herpes made for good target practice.  They were small and fast.  And it didn't hurt that he got to shoot phasers at the guts of a Federation Starbase.  Oops, missed that one.  Too bad about that power panel, heh, heh.

            Huh, now the Federation tricorder Mar'Peth was using to find herpes was malfunctioning.  Instead of a small life force indicating a plant and animal mixture, it reported a large animal right around the bend in the corridor.  Well, something different, Mar'Peth thought.  At last, something I can sink my dagger into.

            Mar'Peth put away the tricorder and drew his d'ktahg.  He cautiously approached the corner and looked around it in to the next passageway.  Standing in the middle of the corridor was the biggest ball of fur he had ever seen.

            Sense.  Enemy.  Screech!  Screech!  

The reason Klingons hate tribbles so much is not just because they are soft and serve no purpose, (the tribbles, not the Klingons), but because of the screech they make when they perceive an enemy, (that, and the discomforting rash they cause).  Somewhere in the Klingon prehistory, there must have been a creature that made a sound very similar to that screech, which Klingons aggressively had to kill.  (Don't they aggressively kill everything?) Similar to the human fight or flight syndrome, Klingons just had to kill the little balls of fur.  They couldn't help it.  They could fight the impulse if they needed to, but they all felt the same basic desire to destroy the things. 

            When the large tribble started screeching, Mar'Peth was only doing what Klingon evolution had taught him, attack!  D'ktahg in hand, Mar'Peth leapt upon the tribble and started to cut it to shreds.  

What Mar'Peth didn't, or couldn't, have known was why the tribble was so large.  Besides being stuffed with the remains of many space herpes, this tribble was about to give birth to more tribbles, which were also ready to give birth.  It's mutation had caused it to form into a colony of tribbles.  His efforts to slice the large tribble into little pieces only gave the new tribbles an easier way out.  The more he cut, the more came out.  The more that came out, the more that perceived an enemy, hence the louder the screeching became.

One must understand that in their native environment, tribbles banded together for protection from their enemies.  The larger their number, the more effective was their sonic defense.  Singly, or in small numbers, they were easy prey, but get enough of them together and, well, you had better have hearing protection.

Unfortunately for the great Klingon warrior Mar'Peth, he had no such hearing protection with him.  The noise first deafened him, and then it burst his eardrums.  Still, Mar'Peth took quite a few with him before he passed out in the middle of the pile of tribbles.  Hungry tribbles.  Carnivorous tribbles.

T'Pina's comm link chimed.  "T'Pina here."

"Well, I just received word from the Hegh qaD that it is infected with space herpes." General K'batlh said to T'Pina.  "May I kill that Lieutenant Commander Starr now for sabotaging my Battlecruiser, or would you like me to make it Federation legal by holding a trial before I kill him."

"I fail to see how Commander Starr could have known about the space herpes before they infected your ship, and I still find him useful at the moment.  Perhaps you could wait until the Commodore gets back.  I know she would want to be present for any killing of Starfleet personnel you may have to perform." T'Pina answered back.

"Very well, I won't kill him...now.  But be assured, he will atone for this insult to me and my ship.  K'batlh out."

T'Pina took a moment to think.  She thought she knew K'batlh well enough by now to dismiss any chance of finding Commander Starr's body not breathing, at least not from his orders.  But she also knew that Klingon pride would mean that sooner or later, someone would atone for the embarrassment to the General and his ship.  Starr had better watch his back for a while, she concluded.  I'll have to warn him.

T'Pina's sensitive hearing caught the soft sound of cooing coming from the airshaft.  It was a sound she had never heard before.  It was relaxing. Perhaps a small animal had gotten stuck there.  She had to find out.  Grabbing her cane, she stood and walked to the office air vent.  Sure enough, just inside, where the air pressure built up to squeeze through the vent, was a small furry creature.  It cooed nicely as the air brushed over its body.  T'Pina's normal stiff Vulcan facade relaxed for a second, and she detached the vent cover.  Reaching in, she gently picked up the creature and brought it into the office.

"T'Pina to Commander S'ena.  Please report to my office."

"Yes, ma'am." Came the tired reply.

When S'ena arrived at T'Pina's office, she found the creature curled up in T'Pina's arm, gently being petted.  Surprised by the situation, they both pretended it hadn't happened.  T'Pina handed over the tribble quickly, but reluctantly.

"Here, I think you should handle this." T'Pina said.

"Now how did you get out of your cage?" S'ena said to the little furball.

"You know what I told you about tribbles.  You will have to keep it under control, or we will be forced to get rid of it.  I can't have it running around loose on the station.  Especially now with trigger happy Klingons running amuck."

"Yes, ma'am.  I'll find a better cage for her.  I just can't imagine how she got out of the one I had her in."

"While you're here, how are you doing on the sensor upgrades?" T'Pina inquired.  "General K'batlh just informed me that the Hegh qaD is also infected."

"Oh no, what a shame." S'ena replied, actually sad about the news.  Brightening up, she continued,  "I believe I may have found a way to track the space herpes enough to locate them and transport them out of the station, but I need a little more time.  It seems that based on their normal rate of propagation, the sensors must not be picking them all up.  I can only find about half of the number I should have, but the station sensors still insist that the total life force of the starbase is growing by leaps and bounds.  I need to resolve this disparity before I can be sure we can find all of the space herpes."

"Well, give your results to Commander's K'SQqwa and Starr.  Maybe we can make a little headway before they swamp us."

"Yes ma'am."

"And Commander..."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Keep that creature under lock and key from now on."

"Yes, ma'am."

S'ena took the soft tribble back to her lab, unconsciously stroking and reassuring it the entire way.  Oh, well, she thought, I've been working on the sensor problem so long that I need a break anyway, and nothing is more refreshing than being with my plant and animal friends, especially Catastrophe!  They were probably all hungry by now.  

The thought of her lab made her steps lighten and her stride lengthen. But when the doors of her lab opened before her, the scene was quite different from what she expected.

"By all the Gods!" S'ena exclaimed in shock.

The room was a complete mess.  Cages and plant trays were laying spilled everywhere.  S'ena hurried from one to the other, inventorying the damage, and helping where she could. Most of the animals were just upset, but all of the plants were, well, just gone.  Uprooted whole.  Not a root left.  Tears in her eyes, she continued her search.  Eventually she found Catastrophe in the corner of the ceiling, stuck to the wall.

"Come down Tass, it's alright now, mommy's here." She told him.

Tass hissed at her and growled.

Surprised, S'ena was taken aback.  Catastrophe hadn't done that to her since she found him as a kitten.  She approached him closer.  Tass spat again and tried to climb even further into the corner. The tribble screeched at the hexcat in return.

"No, wait, you're not hissing at me.  You're hissing at the tribble."  S'ena's eyes got bigger with surprise.  Why should Tass be afraid of a tribble?

S'ena stopped stroking the ball of fur and held it up towards Tass.  When Tass became more agitated, S'ena pulled it back.  She put the tribble back into the crook of her arm.

A second later, she felt immense pain from where the tribble rested in her arm.  Violently, she flung the tribble away from her.  It landed softly, bounced a few times, rolled to a stop and started looking for food.  S'ena looked at her arm.  Green blood and bubbling acid welled from where the tribble had been resting.  In pain from the wound, she quickly scanned her arm with a tricorder, and neutralized the acid with a spray.  Slowly, the pain ebbed away as she put a bandage around her arm. 

That's never happened before, she thought, at least not according to the Starfleet records.  Slowly, comprehension, and revulsion, dawned in her mind as she looked around the lab again.  Tribbles were everywhere.  Tribbles that she had genetically modified in an attempt to make them safe.  Somehow they had gotten out of their cage, where they would have been contained, and had ravaged her lab, eating, no killing, all of her plant friends.  And now, looking at her bandaged and bloody arm, she thought, they must be ready to eat again!

Slowly, she reached up and pulled Catastrophe off of the wall.  He huddled in her arms like a frightened kitten.  S'ena carefully made her way to the lab doors.  The tribbles moved toward her in an ominous way.  When she heard the lab doors swish open behind her, she turned and ran out, yelling, "Computer, seal off the Xenobiology Lab!  Don't let anyone else enter without my authorization."

In hind sight, S'ena admits that the first thing she should have done was go to Captain T'Pina.  It would have been the proper procedural thing to do.  Instead, for some reason, she sought out Lt. Commander Brian Starr in the transporter control room.

Brian had just entered modified operational codes for the transporter, when S'ena entered the room.

"Brian! Something terrible's just happened." She cried as she dropped Catastrophe and rushed into his arms.  "I went back to my lab, sob, and they were there, and I was so scared...sob."

Brian took her by the shoulders and gently held her.  Her natural Orion pheromones were doing strange things to his body, and his cultural desire to play the hero and protect a female wasn't helping either.  Together, they were almost too much to handle.  If he was going to fall prey to one of them, he decided, then he'd pick the one least likely to do harm.  He concentrated on the chivalric codes he was taught as a child.  Harm none weaker than oneself, he remembered.  Serve and protect women.  The Codes gave him strength.  As much as he desired to continue holding her, she was obviously panicked about something.  After S'ena seemed to calm down a bit, he gently pushed her away.

Even Tass, Brian noticed, was upset.  He had made a bee line to the upper corner of the ceiling, and tried to hide in the shadows there.

"S'ena, what happened?  Start from the beginning." Brian tried to say softly and calmly to the frightened girl. "What did you find in your lab?  Who was there?  The space herpes?  I didn't think they had made it to this part of the station yet."

S'ena seemed to calm a little at his questions.  Her Starfleet training finally starting to kick in, she began, "The lab was trashed.  All my plants were gone.  Most of the animals were still safe in their cages, but I don't know how long that will last.  Brian, we've got to save them!"

"Save them from what, S'ena?"

"The tribbles, Brian!"

"Tribbles, what are tribbles?"

"I was doing some genetic experiments on a life form I picked up while on DS9.  It was so cute and harmless, I couldn't figure out why Starfleet said they were dangerous."

"You were conducting experiments on a dangerous life form?"

"No, well, yes...Oh Brian, it was so cute and cuddly, and Starfleet records said they were extinct, which was obviously wrong.  I thought they must have been wrong about them being dangerous as well.  I thought I could fix them so they would be safe, only the space herpes thing started, and the tribbles got out, and now all my plants are dead, and the tribbles are going to eat my animals if we don't do something soon!"

"All right, all right." Brian reassured her.  "The transporter can't be used until it's checked out.  Lets go back to your lab and see what we are dealing with."

"Starr to Transporter Chief.  I've finished the modifications.  Can you check them out while I see to something?"

"Sure, Commander."

Brian turned to S'ena, and then nodded at Catastrophe.  "Do you think he'll be alright alone in here?"

"I know one thing, he won't go back to the lab yet."

"Fine."

Together they left for S'ena's lab.

The call found General K'batlh sitting at the desk in the quarters assigned to him during his stay on Starbase 410.  Designed by Federation and Klingon engineers, it hosted the best comforts of both worlds.  Not so luxurious that a warrior would become lazy, but efficiently designed to relax and rejuvenate.  Adequate was the term K'batlh would have used if asked.  High praise indeed, coming from the battle scared veteran.

"Commander qu'bang to General K'batlh."

The Klingon General put down his drink and pressed the comm button.  On the desk monitor K'batlh could see Commander qu'bang, his senior ranking aid on station at the moment.

"K'batlh here, report."

"Sir, still no sign of Mar'Peth, and we've discovered something else..."

"Yes..." It wasn't like qu'bang to hesitate, K'batlh thought.

"Sir, the men report killing tribbles sir." At this the General sat up straighter in his chair and glared at the monitor.

"TRIBBLES! I thought they were extinct!"

"Yes, Sir, so Klingon High Command told us."

"I want this understood clearly qu'bang, you are to instruct all of our warriors to stop hunting space herpes, and start hunting tribbles, now!  I want every single one of those detestable furry vermin destroyed.  I don't care what it costs.  Is that understood, qu'bang?"

"Yes, General!"

"Good. K'batlh out."

The General took a moment to reflect on his next actions and what the consequences could be.  The Empire had spent a lot of time and effort on this station, and K'batlh honestly liked the Federation personnel he had worked with while here.  In fact, he was stationed here with the intention of avoiding problems such as he was about to start.  Shaking the thoughts from his head, he regretted what he must do, but a true warrior never shirks from his duty, even if he finds that duty distasteful.

"General K'batlh to Hegh qaD"

"Yes, my General."

"Secure this line..."

Brian Starr and S'ena reached the doors to her lab.  Brian took out his phaser, and nodded to S'ena.

"Computer, open the doors to the Xenobiology lab." S'ena said in the general direction of the doors.

"Doors can only be opened after receipt of proper authorization code."

"S'ena, 0IC-U-R-MT-2"

The doors opened and Brian stepped into the doorway with his phaser pointing the way.  Inside, he saw the chaos which reigned in the lab, but no fearsome monsters to shoot.  Instead, some little furry creatures slowly crawled around in aimless patterns.

"Ahh, S'ena?"

S'ena was all business once back in her lab again.  She brushed past Brian and went to a lab computer console.  Giving the cute fuzzies a kick away from her, she accessed the lab computer.

"Ahh, S'ena?

"Just watch them, Brian.  This will only take a minute."

Brian walked into the lab, pointing his phaser at one after another of the harmless looking creatures.  He was beginning to feel a little silly, but he trusted S'ena, so he continued to watch them.  The tribbles ignored him.  

One was getting a little close, so Brian aimed his phaser at it and said, "Watch it little fella.  I don't want to have to use this on you."

"Oh, Brian, put that thing away.  You're going to hurt yourself.  I'm sure you're not going to need it right away, and if you do, I think you can out draw a tribble.  Just make sure they don't get too close to us while I'm downloading these files." 

"Fine." Brian said, a little confused.  These little furballs were the reason S'ena was so upset?  No, Brian corrected himself, it wasn't the furballs themselves, but what they had done to her plant friends.  As Brian looked around, he couldn't see a single leaf or root left.  Brian thought it was a shame.  S'ena used to have quite the collection of rare alien plants.  Many were on the verge of sentience.  

One tribble, it seemed, was still trying to eat the peat moss that S'ena used to bed some of the plants, Brian noticed.  Across the lab, a Kaferian rabbit chittered maddeningly at a tribble that was climbing the side of it's cage.

S'ena looked up at the noise, and turned to another computer console.  Across the room, the tribble on the cage suddenly flew through the air with a squeal, as the cage shimmered with the look of a forcefield being placed around it.

"That should keep the animals safe." S'ena said smugly.

Then she went over to a small container where a single tribble waited.

"To think, all of this was started by you." She said to the original unmodified tribble.  "Well, I'm going to put you into stasis for now."

S'ena touched some controls under the cage, and the tribble inside stopped moving and floated up into the center of the cage.  It was now invisible to time and the rest of the universe.

Turning back to the first console, S'ena pulled out a memory chip and said, "Come on hero, let's get back to the transporter room and finish off these monsters once and for all."

Lieutenant Laura-Jean Morris was standing a normal watch in Ops.  Other than the constant damage reports from the computer and maintenance personnel about phaser damage caused by Klingon space herpes hunters.  And the continued bickering from Intergalactic Traders wanting to drop off and pick up cargoes from the now embargoed station.  And everything else Ops normally had to contend with.  Oh, sure, just another boring day in paradise.  

Morris was beginning to look forward to the end of her shift.  Another check on the chronometer showed she still had a half an hour to go.  Ensign Laura Shepherd had reserved the holodeck, and they were going hiking in a mountainous region on old earth.  Shepherd swore Morris would love the park.  She thought Shepherd had called it Yosemite.  She wondered who it was named after and why.

Suddenly Laura-Jean's board lit up like a celebration.  Someone on the Hegh qaD had just started powering up their weapons.  Laura-Jean quickly scanned the surrounding area of space.  If the Hegh qaD was powering up weapons, there had to be a good reason.  Frowning, Laura-Jean couldn't find an enemy on approach.  Maybe one of the Traders, she thought.  No, none of them were doing anything provocative.  A few were even braking station orbit.  Ah, that must be it.  The traders must have done something to offend the Klingons, and the Hegh qaD was getting ready to stop it from getting away.  

"Hegh qaD, this is station Ops, report, why are you powering up weapons?"

Laura-Jean didn't know which of the Traders the Klingons were mad at, but she felt sorry for them already.  Few things could stand up to a Klingon Battlecuiser, and Intergalactic Trader ships weren't on that short list.  As powerful as the starbase was with it's new modifications, Laura-Jean didn't think even it could take the pounding the Battlecruiser could put out for long.

Well, she'd know who the Klingons were mad at soon enough, the disrupters were almost online.

"T'Pina to Ops, report!"

"Morris here.  The Hegh qaD is powering up weapons, ma'am. I've hailed them, but haven't gotten a answer."

"And who are they aiming those weapons at, Lieutenant?"

"I'll know in a second...." Laura-Jean checked her sensors, "Their aiming them at US!"

"Shields up, now!" T'Pina said.

"Shields up, ma'am!"  Morris quickly raised the station's powerful shields.  Then she noticed something else.  "The Klingons are not firing."

"Our weapons status?"

"I'm bringing them up now, ma'am."

"I'll be up there in a minute...Call me if anything changes.  T'Pina out."

 "General, will you please tell me why the Hegh qaD has powered up her weapons, and chosen to aim them at us?" T'Pina asked in a calm voice.

"Captain T'Pina, how nice to hear from you again so soon."  General K'batlh said smugly.  "The Hegh qaD is only following my orders.  You need not be alarmed...yet.  My warriors have reported the presence of tribbles on this station, and we are just carrying out standing Klingon High Council orders.  Rest assured the Hegh qaD will power down her weapons after we have eliminated this threat to the empire."

"I fail to see how one tribble can be a threat to the empire, General." T'Pina answered back.

"One tribble! One tribble! There's no such thing! Besides, all it takes is one tribble to breed into a million tribbles, Captain.  I want you to know this, the Klingon High Council's standing orders are specific.  My warriors, myself, and this station, are all expendable if we can't destroy every single one of these little ecological monsters.  The Hegh qaD has it's orders to fire on this station until every single tribble is dead if we fail.  Even now, my warriors are searching the decks for them."  The general paused.  "Of course, if you just turned off the transport inhibitors, we could beam them out into space where we could destroy them all at once."

"General, you know I can't do that because of the space herpes menace."

"Well, Captain, there we have it.  We both have our orders from above.  Now if you will excuse me, I have tribbles to kill. K'batlh out."

"T'Pina to senior staff, briefing in 10 minutes."


	3. Part 3

The Adventure Continues…. Part 3

            T'Pina was already in the briefing room, located just off of Ops, when the last of the Senior Staff entered. 

"Very well, let's begin. Commander K'SQqwa."

            "The Hegh qaD still has her disrupters powered up and aimed at us.  Our shields and weapons are also powered up and ready, though not aimed.  We are ready, but we're not trying to provoke anything.  All special weapons are prepared and ready for deployment if need be.  If the Hegh qaD does start something, I assure you Captain, we will finish it."

            "Thank you Commander.  Preferably it won't come to that.  Commanders S'ena and Starr?"

            Brian looked at S'ena, who nodded at him, and he began. "We've isolated a way to transport the tribbles..."

            "TRIBBLES!" K'SQqwa interrupted.

"…off the station all at once," S'ena continued, "and we think we have found a way to do the same to the space herpes, but we're not sure.  We just can't explain why the new sensor alignment refuses to pick up all of the space herpes that we know should exist."

            "Excuse me," Major Amme Madia asked, "But did I miss something here?  Just what are tribbles?"

            "Ecological nightmares worse than space herpes.  They were eliminated by the Klingon home fleet," K'SQqwa answered "or so we were lead to believe."

            S'ena corrected K'SQqwa, "Tribbles are, or were, an extinct animal lifeform. Consisting of little more than fur and reproductive systems, they are considered by the Federation to be dangerous because of the speed at which they reproduce.  Omnivores, they eat any form of biological matter they can find.  They are soft and furry in appearance, and weigh anywhere from a few grams to as much as 20 kilos when about to give birth.  When stroked, they emit a soft coo most humanoids find comforting and relaxing, and when frightened or confronted with an enemy, they screech at levels which, at high enough levels, can burst your eardrums and render one unconscious, though the last is just scientific speculation."

            "My father spoke of the hunt for their homeworld." K'SQqwa injected. "The tribbles had made it back to a Klingon agricultural world.  Not only did they eat everything on the planet, but the loss of the crops caused starvation on several more worlds.  When the Empire sent ships to investigate, the whole process started all over again with infected ships infecting more planets. Entire worlds were stripped of vegetation.  Those monsters almost destroyed the Klingon Empire. The High Council declared war on them and hunted them into extinction.  They were sure they had gotten them all.  In over 40 years there hasn't been a single sighting of one until now.  I would pay good latinum to find out who is responsible for releasing them from whatever hapless plane of hell they came back from so I could kill them once and for all."

            The room was stunned into silence for a minute by K'SQqwa's pronouncement.  Finally, Lt. John Borda, Chief Science Officer, spoke up. "I believe I may have the answer to our problems, if I may Captain?"  T'Pina nodded for him to continue.  

Borda activated the monitor on the wall.  It showed the outline of the station with red spots near the bottom, where the majority of the cargo holds were, and green spots at the top, where most of the living quarters and labs were.  

"With the new sensor alignments that Commander S'ena gave me just before the meeting, I've accessed sensor logs from the beginning of the crisis, and I believe I may have found an answer. Here is the view of the sensor logs yesterday, taking in account the new data, when the space herpes first started making their appearance."  The green dots disappeared, and the red dots shrank down to a quarter of their previous size.  "If I speed up the spread of the contamination..." The red dots began the long journey up the station, increasing in volume to fill the lower half of the starbase.  

"Now, I'll add in the spread of the tribbles...." The green dots started in the middle of the upper section of the station, near the labs, and multiplied until they filled the upper half of the starbase schematic.

"And this happened about six hours ago..." The green dots on the monitor met the red dots and started to over whelm them.  "I'll let this continue to the current time."

On the monitor, the green dots continued to spread over the red dots, obliterating them quickly.  Soon, only a handful of red dots remained near the bottom of the station outline.

"It seems that the tribbles were taking care of our space herpes problem. Unfortunately, the Klingons abandoned their hunt for space herpes, and began hunting the tribbles, which is why the space herpes have launched a comeback."  The green dots began to disappear randomly on the outline, and the red dots started to proliferate rapidly. 

"My suggestion is to: A. Stop the Klingons from killing tribbles, which will B. Allow the tribbles to eat all of the space herpes, and then C. Beam the tribbles off of the station."  Borda concluded.

"That's why we couldn't find all of the space herpes, the tribbles were eating them!" S'ena said.

"But how is this possible?  I thought tribbles were too slow."  Lt. Laura-Jean Morris asked.

S'ena answered, "I was performing some genetic experiments on the tribbles when they escaped the lab.  Space herpes are part plant and part animal.  When the genetically modified tribbles met the herpes, the tribbles just thought they were another form of food.  They seem to have randomly developed the ability to spit their stomach acids at targets up to a meter away.  With a ranged weapon available to them, it didn't matter if they were slow."  S'ena turned to T'Pina, "I'm sorry Captain, I should have been more careful."

"We can deal with lab protocols later, Commander.  Right now we have to convince the Klingons to stop hunting tribbles."

Lt. Commander K'SQqwa spoke up. "That won't be easy.  We can't force them to stop, and I don't think we can talk them into it.  Heck, we armed them!  They've been happily, merrily shooting up the lower half of the station!"

"What if..." Brian spoke out loud to himself.

"Yes, Commander Starr?" T'Pina asked.

"Sorry, just thinking to myself, but what if we could give the Klingons what they wanted, and got rid of the space herpes at the same time?" Brian stood up and crossed over to the monitor, which still showed the outline of the station with the green and red dots growing.  With his finger, he drew a line at the junction of the mushroom shaped cap of the station. 

"We know that the upper sections of the station, where the Promenade, Ops, offices, labs and living quarters are, are free of space herpes, but full of tribbles."  

Brian then pointed at the lower section. "We also know that the lower section is where the Klingons, the tribbles and the space herpes are battling it out.  What if we transported all of the tribbles from the top section down into the lower section.  The Klingons would then have tribbles to kill, and the tribbles would then be where the space herpes are.  Both the Klingons and the tribbles would have what each one wants most, prey and food."

"But what about the transport inhibitors?" Major Madia asked.

"The transporter chief and I were talking about that."  Brian answered.  "It seems that the inhibitors are located on the hull of the station to stop transport to and from the station.  True, they largely stop transport inside the station near the surface, but baring that, nothing would stop us from transporting from one spot inside the station to another spot inside the station.  We could simply transport the ones we know we could reach to spaces far enough away from the hull for them to materialize, say the core of the spine near the bottom."

"Where the space herpes and the Klingons are." T'Pina finished.  "Well done crew.  Let's make it so."

Someone snickered.

Down deep in the space station, near the lower spine, the Klingons were surprised to find the mother lode of tribbles.  Word spread out among the Klingon forces that they had found the center of the tribble infestation.  Every Klingon onboard Starbase 410 soon converged on the core.

The phaser power packs ran dry, and still they fought on.  Covered with fur and tribble blood, using knives and sometimes bare hands, the Klingons carried on the melee of death.  Tribble bodies stacked up.  The few Federation helpers soon begged off, too tired, or disgusted, to continue.  But the Klingons fought on.

For their part, the tribbles didn't die easily.  They were able to gather enough numbers to incapacite some of the Klingons and hold their own, at least until the Klingons could get fresh phaser power packs.

And the space herpes?  Well, they were caught between the Klingons and the tribbles.  Innocent victims of a war they could have, should have, won, if not for the rock and the hard place they were stuck between.  The genetically modified tribbles and the phaser wielding Klingons were too much for them.  Their hiding places got fewer and fewer, as tribbles hunted them down and Klingons rained destruction.  

"Well Captain, that was the last one." Lt. John Borda said as the last red light went out on his monitor.

"Are you sure?  Leave no room for error." T'Pina reminded him.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sure.  There are no more space herpes on board the station.  The tribbles have eaten them all."

"Very well then.  Computer, secure from quarantine procedures C-7." T'Pina said.

"Please enter authorization code."

"T'Pina, IC-B4-U."

"Confirmed."

"Lieutenant, are the transporter inhibitors off line?"

"Yes ma'am, all transport inhibitors are now off line."

"Very good.  Lt. Morris, get me General K'batlh."

A minute passed, before the General's tired visage filled the main Ops viewer.  

"Yes, Captain," K'batlh growled. "What can I do for you? I'm busy."

"General, you might like to know that the station has secured from quarantine and you may now beam back to your ship."

"I can?  What about your space herpes problem?"

"The space herpes have all been taken care of General.  There are no longer any on the station."

"And the Hegh qaD?"

"I'm sorry, General, but with shields up and weapons armed, we can't ascertain the status of the space herpes problem on board your battlecruiser, but I would surmise it to be quite severe by now."

"You have found a cure for space herpes, haven't you?  What about the tribbles?"

"General, you may continue to kill as many tribbles as you want.  But if the Hegh qaD powers down her weapons and lowers her shields, we can do the same, and once we do that, we can transport every one of the tribbles anywhere you wish." T'Pina answered.

 "And you'll take care of the space herpes problem on the Hegh qaD?" the General asked hesitantly.

"Of course, General.  If that's what you want.  What are allies for, if not to help each other."

"Then it's a deal!  I'll have the Hegh qaD power down her weapons immediately, then you can cure my space herpes."  Once again, the General seemed hesitant to speak.  "I'm surprised Captain.  I would have thought you might have tried to avenge yourself for the trouble we've caused."

"General, Vulcans find revenge to be very illogical."

"Yes...well... K'batlh out."

"Ensign Morris, status on the Hegh qaD?"

"She's powering down her weapons and shields, Captain."

"Captain," Borda reported, "The sensors indicate that the Hegh qaD is full of space herpes.  The Klingons must have tried to cut them up."

"Irony, however, is something even Vulcans can appreciate" T'Pina said to the now empty viewer.  "Commander Starr, commence with the transport of the space herpes cure to the Hegh qaD, as per the General's request."

"Yes, ma'am!"


	4. Part 4

The Adventure Continues…. Part 4

            Brian was back in the holodeck, once again fighting Klingons.  When sleep eluded him, he had made his way here to relax and work out his feelings for S'ena.  The "One" was with him as he killed simulated Klingon after another.  Serving soup.  Splitting wood.  Churning butter.

He wondered, after seeing the Klingons in action, if his program was good enough.  Could he really beat a live Klingon? Or was he fooling himself with smoke and mirrors into believing he was invincible.

Brian heard the holodeck doors open, then close.  Out of position, he hadn't seen who had come in.  A dangerous circumstance for whoever had, as the program was designed to assign attackers to who ever didn't belong in it.

"Computer, freeze program."

Brian only just blocked the incoming Bat'leth with his sword.  The program was still active!

"Computer, end program."

Once again, the computer generated Klingons kept coming.  

Someone has taken over control of the program and locked out my voice commands, he thought.  Presumably, they would have disabled the safety overrides as well.  That alone would be enough to kill me, Brian concluded, unless someone came along and turned off the program from the outside.  Why let me know by opening the doors?  Spreading sheets, followed by making bed.

That's it!  They weren't sure that the program would kill him.  Someone could still save him.  They had entered the program to make sure he died.  But why hadn't the program attacked them as well? Beating rug. 

Brian chanced a quick look around.  No, all he saw were Klingons, no other fights.  Either the mysterious killer had changed the program more than Brian thought possible without restarting it, or....The killer was Klingon!  Of course!  The program only attacked people who didn't belong in it.  It would accept a live Klingon in place of a holographic one any day.  One of these guys was a ringer!  Gathering eggs.

Brian had no reservations about killing holograms.  The computer could always make more.  But real people?  Not unless it was unavoidable.  The Chivalric Codes of Avalon, and Starfleet regulations, forbade killing unless it was absolutely necessary. Brian had to figure out which Klingon was real, while fighting for his life.  Then he had to disable them without killing them, or getting himself killed!

Yeah, right, maybe while he was at it, he could bake a cake too.  Kneading bread. Well, it was a plan, he decided.  Let's try it.  Pitching hay. First, identify the imposter.

At any one time, Brian was surrounded by three to five adversaries.  The computer would send them at him one or two at a time, depending on complex algorithms Brian himself had written.  Splitting wood.  They took in account the position of Brian, his weapon, the Klingons and their weapons, some Klingon cultural preferences about attacking single opponents, Brian's fighting ability and random chance variables.

If three Klingons attacked him at once, he thought, one would be the imposter.  Brian also thought he would die.  He was pretty sure that he couldn't take out three Klingons at once.  Well, he prayed, let's not have that happen.  Sowing grain.

If two Klingons attacked at once, they would attack together.  The computer just naturally coordinated their attack.  Brian hadn't worked that out of the program yet.  For some reason the computer didn't send two independent attacks at him at once.  If they didn't attack fluidly, complementing each other, that meant that one of them probably was real, the ringer not knowing what the hologram would do.  Storing dishes.

The most likely way the imposter would attack was singlely, Brian decided.  It fit the Klingon code of honor more.  That was if this attacker had any honor.  The attacks generated by the computer came with regularity.  Not always the same, but Brian had set a minimum time limit between attacks.  If an attacker started too early, he would give himself away, and if he started too late, the computer would send in another on cue.  The killer must start near the end of the time limit before the computer initiated an attack, Brian thought.  Sweeping floor, followed by churning butter.

But which one was he?  Serving soup.  So far the Klingon adversaries had been coming forward like normal.  The "One" gave him some relief from exhaustion, but he couldn't keep it up forever.  The tension Brian felt from knowing one of the attackers was real was going to tire him out alone.  

Was it that one over there?  Making bed.  Brian hadn't been attacked from that quarter for the last three passes.  If the killer wanted to study him, he might show up as the only Klingon not to attack him right away.  Brian meet eyes with the Klingon.  No, he wasn't the attacker, just random chance that he hadn't attacked yet.

What about that one?  He looked too eager. Drawing water.  No, it didn't feel right.  

Of course! Brian finally grasp the answer, feel!  Brian stopped trying to guess which attacker was the real Klingon.  Reaching inward, Brian let his heart decide.

A Klingon Warrioress, two behind the one on the right.  Brian had never written that much detail into his program.  Breath, sweat, nervousness, anger, the visual clues were obvious to Brian now, where a few seconds before he would have been fooled.

Brian then did something he hadn't done since he first wrote his exercise program, he attacked!  He had always figured, why attack when the computer always sent in the next opponent right away? This time, Brian had a reason, to finish off the real Klingon before the holo-Klingons finished him.  The computer obliged him by sending him attackers from that direction.  The real Klingon first looked surprised, then eager, then she too pressed through the Klingons in front of her to confront Brian.

The two warriors met with a clash of weapons, Bat'leth versus medieval sword.  Klingon versus human.  Reaping wheat, blocked!  Drawing water, blocked!  This warrioress was good!  Almost too good for Brian to take.  She seemed to know what Brian was going to do.  Of course! The warrioress had watched, and seen, most of Brian's attack moves.  Brian needed something that he hadn't used for a while, yet wouldn't outright kill his opponent, or get himself killed in the process. Sweeping floor, blocked!

The Klingon's superior strength was beginning to tell.  Not only was she blocking Brian's attacks, but she was counter attacking as well.  Brian's "One" kept him from falling to the effects of his exertions right away, but his opponent was fresh.  Brian realized that if the stalemate continued, sooner or later, his flesh would give out.  If someone didn't intercede, then time was on his killer's side!

Brian let his conscious mind reach back to his early days of training.  During that time, his teacher had introduced him to many different forms of combat, from many different worlds, including the Klingon way.  Most of Brian's combat moves were a combination of European and Oriental sword fighting techniques, with some hand to hand instruction from the schools of Starfleet Academy and life.  

The Klingon's Bat'leth techniques largely resembled the terran quarterstaff and two-handed sword methods, plus a few original moves due to it's smaller size.  Its advantage was that it could hook an opponent's weapon, maybe even breaking it between two of its prongs.  The Bat'leth's disadvantage, and Brian's advantage, was that it couldn't thrust as well as Brian's sword. 

Brian decided on a plan of action. When the time was right, he threw his sword up for a striking blow.  The warrioress sent her Bat'leth up to block the downward stroke.  Brian abandoned his sword attack, and ducked down below his opponent's upraised arms to throw himself at the Klingon's chest.  They both rolled to the floor.  Brian lay where he fell, facing away from the killer.  The warrioress, seeing her chance, jumped up off of the floor and rushed Brian's still form, anticipating an easy kill.  

Brian waited.  The timing must be right or I'm dead, he thought.  Tightening the grip on his sword, Brian could hear the rushing footsteps of his doom.  In the slowness of the "One", they sounded like his own heartbeat. Boom, Boom, Boom.

Suddenly, Brian spun where he lay, stretching his arm and sword out in front of him straight toward the oncoming Klingon.  In slow motion, the tip of Brian's sword met the armored chest... and penetrated.  The forward momentum of the onrushing warrioress carried her down the length of the blade, as if her chest were its sheath, piercing her heart and settling home.

The fact that she was probably dead didn't phase the Klingon warrioress.  With her Bat'leth raised high for Brian's deathblow, she ignored the sword and continued her final stroke, perhaps not even knowing she was doomed.  Brian let go of the sword and grabbed the first thing that came into his hand... another Bat'leth from a fallen hologram!  He quickly raised it in a blocking maneuver that almost didn't make it.

On his knees, holding the holo'Bat'leth above him, Brian looked up into the face of his attacker.  The Klingon warrioress grinned at him and pressed down.  Brian could feel her hot breath and see the fire in the warrioress' eyes.  As Brian's arms began to fail under the relentless power of the Klingon, he asked, "Your name, Warrior, so that I may find you in hell."

"I will tell you, weak earther, so that you may fear me even in the afterlife.  K'iHqas sutai LoDni'." The Klingon growled.  "Never again will you dishonor General K'batlh."

Suddenly, the warrioress' strength left her, her body finally failing her at last.  She fell to the side with a surprised look in her eyes, to have victory suddenly torn from her grasp by betraying flesh.  Brian fell beside her, the "One" gone, and his energy used up.  The holographic Warriors just stood there and looked on, as if watching the death of their hero.

K'iHqas, looked at the sword hilt sticking out from her heart and gasped, "What...?" and the fire went out of her eyes.  The holographic Klingons then did something Brian hadn't programmed into them, they began to howl, lamenting the loss of a true warrior.

The computer's voice, out of place among the slain, came as a surprise.  "Program terminated." Everything except Brian, and K'iHqas' lifeless body, disappeared.

"Computer, emergency transport to sick bay!" Brian said as he grabbed K'iHqas.

Brian finally had his answer.  While he could kill a Klingon, he felt he may never match them in warrior spirit.

Back in her lab at last, Lt. Commander S'ena had one more task to accomplish before she could begin to rebuild.  Floating in it's stasis field was the original tribble she had gotten from DS9.

            "I know that you are dangerous.  I certainly don't like what your children did to my plant friends, and the Klingons would kill you on sight." She told the unknowing creature. "But it's not your fault.  The Klingons want to make you extinct again, and I can't imagine a galaxy without your kind in it any more.  As long as you remain in this stasis field, they can never pick you up on sensors.  I'll keep you until a day comes when I can find a home for you, where you, and all of your proper children, can live naturally."

With that, S'ena took the stasis container and hid it in a storage facility in the lab.  Safe, dark, hidden, secure, until...

Later, on the promenade, S'ena saw Brian walking ahead of her.  She caught up to him and said, "I thought you were going to be using your exercise program this afternoon."

"No, a Klingon I met and I are going to wait until we can get together and write a new program.  She'll teach me some new tricks, and I'll see if I can teach her a few of mine in return."

"Oh, her huh." S'ena said disappointedly, "I guess you don't have time for old friends?"

"MiLady, I will always have time for you."

The Adventure continues.... 


	5. Part 5 Friends

The Adventure Continues... Part 5

The section of space known as "The Triangle", where the Federation, Klingon and Romulan star empires all meet, is a place where civilizations and egos clash.  It is a contested, and congested, area of space, with commerce vessels and warships roughly equaling each other.

Near the end of the Dominion War with the inhabitants of the Gamma Quadrant, the newly re-forged alliance of the United Federation of Planets and the Klingon Star Empire, decided to build a project to protect both of their interests in the Triangle, and to re-supply their ships in the war against the Dominion.  

That project was Starbase 410, a giant "Guardian Class" space station.  Located near the "ram qul", or Night Fire, nebula, and integrating the latest in Klingon-Federation technology, it was a totally self-sufficient bastion of peace, and a guardian of civilization in the troublesome "Triangle", where tempers were often short, and trigger fingers even shorter.

Radlet tried once again to evade the small fighter spacecraft attacking him.  He could tell it was only a matter of time before his merchant freighter took enough hits that he would have to surrender or be blown up.  He considered his position.  The fighters had come upon him swiftly, before he had even known they were near.  He should have called for help immediately, but he hadn't realized how out matched he really was until it was too late.  Besides, the local authorities didn't like merchants who carried illegal cargo.  They might have saved him from the pirates, just to confiscate his ship and throw him in jail.

Like a swarm of insects, the pirates attacked.  Each one would swoop in, fire a shot, and race back out of the range of Radlet's civilian grade phasers.  What Radlet wouldn't have given at that moment for some real phasers, or better yet, a disrupter or two.  His aft shields were little more than paper.  One more hit there, and he was done for.  Now he wished he'd gotten that weapons upgrade the Ferengi arms dealer had tried to talk him into.  Radlet had considered himself pretty smart to have resisted his sales pitch at the time.  Now he realized how foolish he had been.  Imagine going into the Triangle with normal civilian phasers and shields.  If mama Jurget's little boy survived this one, bet your bottom centlet, he'd find that Ferengi and pay him double for decent arms.  If he stopped now and surrendered, he figured he might get off lucky.  Most space pirates just took a portion of your cargo.  It seemed his only choice.

"This is Captain Radlet of the space merchantman Ivory Butterfly.  Please state your conditions for surrender."

An obviously computer generated voice said "No conditions. Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded.  Any resistance will result in your immediate destruction." 

Radlet didn't consider them to be very promising conditions, but if he was to have any way out of this alive, he figured he better do as they had said.  No sooner had he lowered his shields and stepped away from the pilot's console, than he heard the sound of transporters behind him.  He turned around to see his attackers and his heart stopped.  Radlet realized that he wasn't going to lose just his cargo this time.

Ke'reth Zantal Makura, the Klingon Ambassador to Starbase 410, arrived outside the holodeck.  B'Sel, his chief aid, was supposed to meet him there. He looked around, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Ke'reth hated waiting.  

He decided to see if the holodeck was in use.  A program was already running inside.  Ah, he thought, either that's where she is, or she has already set up the program for me and been called away.  B'Sel often came across, or wrote, holo programs to help familiarize Ke'reth with upcoming Ambassadorial duties. In this case, the new Ferengi Ambassador's arrival.  Ke'reth thought it showed good initiative on his aid's part to use the Federation technology to ease Ke'reth's job. He could make any mistakes that might cost the Empire in private, before he met potential adversaries.  He opened the doors and went inside.

            Ke'reth found himself on a street in a strangely primitive town.  Most of the houses were dark and quiet, except for a bar to his right. The Drunken Mermaid, he read above the door.  It appeared to be named after some form of aquatic humanoid alien species.  Ke'reth stepped up and peered in the door.  Neither B'Sel, or any Ferengi, were in the bar.  There were a collection of Vulcans, Earthers and some short humanoid race Ke'reth didn't recognize.  Well, even if it was holographic, Ke'reth thought it might be a good idea to go inside and get a drink.

            No sooner than Ke'reth stepped inside, than a big muscle bound Earther stepped in his way.  "Hey," the Earther said, "We don't allow your kind in here."

            At first Ke'reth wanted to slap the insolent pup aside, but then his years of diplomatic training came to the fore.  "Excuse me," he asked, "were you talking to me?" Ke'reth made a show of looking behind himself to see if there was anybody else in the entry way with him.  

            "Yes, you pig faced orc." The Earther started to swing his fist at Ke'reth.

            Ke'reth easily reached up and caught the fist in his hand.  Gripping the fist, he began to squeeze.  The Earther's eyes widened.  Ke'reth squeezed it some more.  The Earther gripped his entrapped hand with his other in a vain attempt to free it. Ke'reth continued to squeeze.

            Diplomatically Ke'reth suggested, "I believe you have mistaken me for someone else, and you now wish to apologize."

            "Yes, yes, I believe you are right.  I am so sorry.  Please come in sir, and make yourself comfortable.  Allow me to pay for your first drink as a way of apology." He said in almost a pleading voice.  "If you could just release my hand..."

            Ke'reth waited a second, then released the fist.  He was quite sure that it contained several broken bones by now, if it had been real. Ke'reth then crossed to the bar and ordered bloodwine from the fat Earther behind the counter.

Ke'reth reflected on the incident.  He was doing more thinking, instead of fighting, now that he was the representative of the Empire in the Triangle.  What was the correct diplomatic response?  What he had done had showed restraint. Ke'reth realized that he had never even considered turning around and leaving, as the Earther had desired.  A normal warrior would have just killed the annoying bug.  The problem, and the challenge, of diplomacy was to defeat the foe without throwing a blow.  Ha, Ha, Ke'reth laughed into his drink, foe, blow.  In this case he hadn't thrown a blow, had gained what he desired, and even gained from the enemy via an apology and the price of a drink.  Yes, there were times when restraint had its benefits.

            Ke'reth turned from the counter, and chose a table in the corner opposite the bar entrance.  From there he could see the entire establishment and the door.  He slowly drank his bloodwine.  Even though the holodeck could transport real objects, like food and drink, into the program for people to consume, it still only transported Federation synthehol.  Bah!

Soon an armed party arrived.  Three Earthers, two males and one female, a male Vulcan with a bow and quiver of arrows, and a male of the short dwarfish race carrying a two headed axe. Ke'reth snorted, a two headed axe wielded by a fellow no bigger than Ke'reth's waist.  A more useless weapon choice, Ke'reth couldn't think of.  Better, they should have had the Vulcan and the dwarf trade weapons.  The Vulcans had superior strength and used axes in their ritual ceremonies.  They should know how to handle one properly.  While the dwarf could make use of his size to be a smaller target, and fire at a foe from long range, where his size wouldn't matter.  Ah, the automatic assessments made by warrior leaders, Ke'reth thought, I guess diplomacy hasn't stolen all of my skills.

The Earther female, dressed in ridiculously revealing leather and chain armor, and armed with a dagger at her waist, pointed toward Ke'reth and said something to one of the males.  He at least was wearing decent armor, steel plates from head to toe.  The only thing Ke'reth saw wrong with him was a strange ornate pendent dangling from his neck.  That thing will get in his way in a fight, Ke'reth thought, I'd use it to choke him.  He's put his own noose around his neck

The large human approached Ke'reth's table. Ke'reth looked him over from habit.  He was well balanced on his feet, and carried himself with a confidence that only came from fighting, and winning, many battles.  This one wouldn't be as easy as the first human.

"Excuse me," the man said in a deep voice, "You appear to be sitting at our table."

"Really?" Ke'reth looked around as if surprised to find himself there.  "Well, there seems to be enough room for all of us, if you wish to join me."

"You don't understand, you are in our seats.  Move now!"

Ke'reth had been a master diplomat for a while now, but he had been a warrior first, and always would he carry a warrior's heart within him, even unto the grave.

Dangerously he said "And if I don't?". There was no hint of humor in Ke'reth's voice now.

The human began to loom over Ke'reth, "Then I'll move you myself."

"You will find that to be a unhealthy move Earther.  I suggest you sit else where." 

"I'll sit here!" yelled the human as he began to pull his overly large sword from it's scabbard.

At the first sound of steel, Ke'reth was already on the move.  The large table flew up into the man's face, taking him and two more tables full of patrons to the floor.  An arrow sprang from the woodwork where Ke'reth had been sitting, to late to find it's target. Ke'reth flipped one of his concealed daggers at the Vulcan who ducked down behind the bar, wounded.  Must be getting old and slow, he thought, oh well, at least it avoided an interstellar incident with the Vulcans!

The dwarf with the axe was wading through the crowd towards Ke'reth, while the old human simply stood there mumbling.  Dismissing the old man and the armored human still struggling out from under the table, Ke'reth moved to intercept the dwarf.

Raising his axe above his head, the dwarf screamed a battle cry and rushed forward. Ke'reth let out a bellow that put the dwarf's to shame, and rushed toward him.  They met in the center of the room in a crash. Ke'reth reached up and grabbed the axe handle as it descended.  This resulted in a contest of strength, as each of them fought over control of the weapon.

Ke'reth noticed that the old man had finished mumbling and was now gesturing as if he had a disrupter.  Ke'reth picked up the dwarf by the axe and swung him around like a living shield.  Suddenly, bolts of light flew from the old man's hands into the back of the dwarf, who took the entire brunt of the charge.  Ah ha! He was armed!

Drawing his own disrupter, he snapped off a shot at the old man, who was standing helpless, with his mouth gaping open like a fish. Ke'reth guessed he hadn't meant to shoot his short comrade. Too bad for them both, Ke'reth thought as the disrupter beam caught the old man full in the chest and he went down to the floor.

The dwarf, now unconscious, fell from Ke'reth's grasp. Ke'reth dropped the ridiculous axe over his knee, breaking off the head.  Now he judged the haft to be a good club.  He was about to start swinging, when the armored human bowled him over from behind.  They both crashed to the ground. Ke'reth turned in mid air so that his weight landed on top of the human, crushing him and giving Ke'reth enough freedom to break his bearhug.  They started to wrestle as the fight grew around them to involve all of the bar's customers.

"Computer!  Freeze program!" B'Sel's voice cut through the noise.

Ke'reth looked up, his opponent now frozen.

"Ambassador!" B'Sel ran over to him.  "I'm so sorry.  Are you hurt?  I was detained by Major Madia.  I had no idea that there was already a program running."

Ke'reth stood up and brushed off his clothes.  "You mean this isn't one of your programs?"

"No sir, it's an earth program someone must have left running."

"Hmm, add it to my list of training programs.  It has....possibilities."

Commodore Anarita Jat was annoyed.  This was usually a dangerous thing for someone somewhere.  Fortunately for the crewmen passing her in the corridor, it wasn't one of them.  She didn't even know the name of the faceless bureaucrat who had landed this problem on her shoulders, but if she ever found out, it would be to their misfortune.  Hmm, Commodore Sutherby owed her a favor, maybe she could find out...

 Commodore Jat reached the office of her executive officer, Captain T'Pina.  Not in the mood to wait, she barged in.  T'Pina looked up from her desk and took in Jat's mood immediately.  

"Commodore, how may I help you?" T'Pina asked calmly.

"How are the preparations going for the arrival of the Ferengi Ambassador?" Jat said curtly.

"I have decided to place them in section Delta, level four.  That is one level above the unofficial Bolian Embassy, but below the Klingon and Bajoran Embassies."

Jat looked at T'Pina.  "But on the same level with the Vulcans?"

"It seemed the logical place, at least the Vulcans won't be as easily upset as the rest of the embassies." 

"But the home world differences, Vulcan is dry and hot, where Ferenginar is cooler and much moister.  Don't the Ferengi have 177 different names for rain?"

"178, but yes, that alone should keep the Ferengi from venturing too far into the Vulcan embassy."

A smile broached Jat's face.  "I can just see all of those frustrated Ferengi trying to sell things to your Vulcan friends."

"I can't imagine why their failure should amuse you Commodore." T'Pina replied, but the twinkle in her eyes hinted at a sense of a joke shared.

"I can understand the Federation needing all of the allies they can get," Jat said, "and I can understand that the Ferengi, in their own way, are a star empire.  I can even agree with attempting to lull them into the Federation, BUT FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, WHY ON MY STARBASE!"

"Commodore, I assume you are asking a rhetorical question?  You know better than I the reasons the Ferengi are coming to Starbase 410.  Once they heard that there were embassies for most of the intelligent space faring species in this region already here, naturally they felt slighted at not being invited on board."

"More likely they felt an opportunity to make a little latinum." Jat commented dryly.

"I'm sure your assessment of the situation is as accurate as mine, Commodore." T'Pina continued, "But never the less, the Federation does need the Ferengi, and the Ferengi know it.  I believe the earth phrase is, "like a fish over a barrel.""

"I'm not sure you got that quite right, but yes, we do need them and they darn sure know it.  But the Federation won't pay blood money for allies."

"And the Ferengi won't join the Federation for free..."

"So that leaves us with the problem of selling the Ferengi on joining voluntarily."

"Well, Commodore, if anyone can do it, I'm sure it will be you."

"Thanks, Captain," Jat said, her normally calm composure returning.  "How go the preparations for the Ambassadorial Ball?"

"I've left most of the preparations up to Lt. Commander Starr..."

 "S'ena," Lt. Commander Brian Starr said as he rushed into the Bio Lab.  "There you are!  I can't find Dr. Strachan, and I've got to find out the food requirements for Ferengi.  Can they eat Terran and Klingon cuisine or not?"

Lt. Commander S'ena looked up from her experiment, which had just been catastrophically interrupted, to meet eyes with Brian.  "Do you realize what you have just done?  Why didn't you just ask the computer instead of ruining an entire afternoon's work?" she asked tartly.

"The computer doesn't know, Dr. Strachan has stopped answering my calls, and... oh, did I interrupt something important?" Brian asked in a charming little boy manner.

For a moment, S'ena's heart melted as he looked at her innocently.  "Alright, what was it you wanted to know?"

"Great!  I knew I could count on you.  It's all right here on this pad."  Brian gave her the computer pad and beat a hasty retreat.  "Thanks! I owe you one!" He said as he went out the door.

S'ena looked down at the pad.  On it was a partial menu for a formal dinner, and instructions written to her on how to finish it.

"What the....?  That son of a....! He left me with almost the entire dinner to finish!  And the Gods only know if Ferengi like electric gaakh...."

Ensign Laura Shepherd and Lt. Laura-Jean Morris were on watch in Ops.  The two Lauras, as they were called, rarely got the opportunity to work together, and they were making the most of it.  For weeks they had been working separately on an artificial intelligence holoprogram, when, if it worked, would largely automate the scheduling of the massive amounts of merchant vessel traffic which passed through Starbase 410's sphere of influence. That would free up the Ops crew to work on the higher priority traffic that actually docked at the base.  Even better, the holocontroller would be undetectable to the merchants just passing through.  They would never know that the controller was a holoprogram, or at least they weren't supposed to know.

They had gotten the idea after Lt. Cdr. Jeanette Warren had told them about U.S.S. Voyager's experiment with their Emergency Medical Holoprogram, or EMH for short.  It turned out that when Voyager had been presumed lost in the badlands, it had really been spirited to the Delta quadrant.  Unfortunately, not all of the crew survived the trip, including the entire medical staff.  The crew of Voyager had been getting by with only their EMH for many years.  But the constant use of the holoprogram had had an effect on the EMH.  It seemed that while it had had a few major problems to overcome, the EMH had become sentient.

Early in their shift, they had placed the holoprogram on line for a test run.  The SHAIT-C, which stood for "Starbase Holographic Artificial Intelligence Traffic Controller," had been working fine for several hours. Carefully monitoring the holoprogram's shifting of traffic for mistakes or problems, they had found one.  In an effort to make communication easier with the merchants who didn't have, or use, universal translators, they had made the program able to speak any language and appear as a native of the particular merchant's species.  A Bolian would see and hear a Bolian, and a Klingon would see and hear a Klingon. A side effect was that the holoprogram liked to talk.  This itself wasn't a problem.  The merchants who didn't want to talk back to it, and that was most of them since merchants in the triangle tended to be solitary, or conducting business of such a manner that the less they talked to government authority the better, simply turned down their communications equipment's volume.

The problem was that one of the Bolian merchants, Jartan, had fallen in love with the program, and wanted to meet her.  The two Lauras were beginning to regret their choice of making the hologram female.  They were also regretting not gaining prior permission to test the program with live traffic. While they were trying to figure out what to do about the amorous merchant, Ensign Shepherd's Ops screen suddenly notified her that a ship was coming out of warp very close to the base.  Too close!

"Laura! I've got a problem!" Shepherd cried.

"What is it Laura?" Morris asked as she approached the console.

"I've got a ship coming out of warp too close to the station...  It's out and on a collision course!"

"Shields up! Get a tractor beam on that ship now! Ops to Captain T'Pina!" Morris called out.

"T'Pina here, report."

"Captain, we have an unknown vessel on a collision course with the station.  It came out of warp barely 5000 kilometers from us."  Both Lauras worked at the tractor beam console. "Attempting to lock a tractor beam on it to steer it away."

"I've got it, but it's mass and velocity are too high!" Morris said, "It's still going to hit the station."

"It's turning to a new bearing on it's own!  Coming to a heading to orbit the station." Shepherd announced.

"Weapon status." T'Pina calmly asked.

"Ours are coming on line now, Captain." Morris answered. 

"Captain, their weapon systems are not on line." Shepherd reported. "Captain, sensors show it to be a Ferengi vessel."


	6. Part 6

The Adventure Continues… Part 6

            "Bring us out of warp, Helm." Captain Leigh Brown said.  He was bringing the U.S.S. Rage out of warp some distance from the area where, he hoped, a wormhole originally used by the legendary TKon Empire would soon appear. That depended on if the information he had purchased from the Yridians was worth anything.

            The TKon Empire had been destroyed six hundred thousand years ago when its primary sun had gone nova.  At its height, it had been able to move planets.  Though why they hadn't moved their own out of danger seemed a mystery to Leigh.  The Enterprise-D had found a functioning TKon outpost in 2364, and part of the information reveled had been the existence of this wormhole.  The only problems were twofold.  One, the wormhole only appeared once every 89 years, and two, it moved.  

            Enter the Yridians.  Not unlike the Ferengi, the Yridians were interstellar traders, however they tended to be information movers.  It seemed easier to move than raw cargo.  If you needed to know something, and weren't afraid to pay handsomely for it, they were the ones to track down the information.  Starfleet Intelligence had worked out the deal and provided the money, now all Leigh had to do was see if the information was worth anything.  He sure wished he knew where the Yridians had found this bit of information.  Perhaps there was another outpost still functioning somewhere after all these years.

            "Helm, bring us within 20,000 kilometers of the coordinates." Leigh ordered.  

The U.S.S. Rage was outfitted as a science vessel, and for all intents and purposes, could actually perform well as such, hence it's presence here.  But it's real purpose for existence was as an intelligence-gathering device.  Leigh often wondered if Starfleet Intelligence had told Starfleet Command about the duel nature of the Rage, since both tended to send him on different missions at the same time.  Fortunately for Captain Leigh Brown and his little ship, the powers that be in Starfleet had both agreed on this particular mission.

            "Sir, sensors indicated a buildup of verteron particles nearby." The science officer, Lt. Alex Ripley, reported.  

"Well, well," Leigh said, "the Yridians have come through." He turned to Ripley and said,  "Make sure that all of the sensors are recording the readings on the wormhole.  If we can just find out where it comes out on the other side…, but considering that it only opens once every 89 years, I guess there's no way we want to go through it.  Prepare the class-1 probe for its journey into the wormhole instead.  With any luck, it will go through and come back with the information Starfleet wants."

            The Alex Ripley turned to his duties as Leigh joined him at the station. The verteron particles had almost formed the membrane, which would allow the singularity to form.  Within seconds the subspace distortion would cause the visible form of the wormhole to appear.  The Ripley launched the probe and studied the telemetry.  It was coming in fine.  The wormhole was opening up just as, and where, it had been predicted by the Yridians.  

Leigh looked up from the sensors as the wormhole bloomed like a giant flower; stark against the star speckled velvet darkness of space.  He savored the sight. Every color of the spectrum was painted across its surface in grand sweeps of a galactic artist's brush.  This wormhole displayed in the sky like a lily, with six gigantic petals reaching outward from the center.  Leigh looked on in awe, appreciating what he was witnessing.  He was one of the first humans to see this wonder of space, and at least for the next 89 years, his crew would be the only ones as well.

            Duty calls, Leigh thought as he tore his gaze away from the spectacle and back to the instruments.  The probe had entered the wormhole and was transmitting beautifully, data streaming in.  Leigh noticed that the probe was drifting off course.  Ripley was having a difficult time realigning it, so Leigh moved in to help correct its trajectory.  Some gravity well is traversing the wormhole, he thought.  The probe was being pulled into a large planetoid inside the wormhole.  Leigh used up the last of the probe's fuel in a vain attempt to free it from the gentle, but firm, grip the planetoid had on it. In a matter of seconds the battle was over and the precious probe was nothing but debris in a newly formed crater on the errant planetoid.

            Leigh cursed his luck.  Several of the bridge crew looked at him in surprise.  The only time in Leigh's life this event would take place, and some big rock had obliterated his probe.  He concentrated on the readings he could get from the Rage's sensors.  The wormhole was beginning to collapse, but not before it spit out the cause of the probes demise.  

            Captain Leigh Brown looked up from his sensors, and at the main viewscreen, to see something he had thought he would never see in his entire life while in the Triangle... Earth's moon.

            Lt. Cdr. Brian Starr straightened his shirt as he rounded the corner of the corridor.  Running to catch up to him, Lt. Cdr. S'ena called out. "Brian, wait up!"

            Brian stopped and turned around.  Smiling, he watched as S'ena caught up.  He felt a surge of joy anytime he was near the half Orion, half-Human, girl.  The sight of her running down the corridor toward him, hair streaming behind her, filled his mind with strange desires.  As she slowed to a stop next to him, her wild hair fell down her shoulders in a cascade of red.  Brian longed to stroke it. 

He noticed she was saying something to him. Why did she always have that effect on him, he wondered?  Whenever he saw her, he turned into a dreamy eyed fool.  One day his feelings for her would get him into trouble.

            "Excuse me, what did you say?" Brian asked.

            "I said, we can go now.   You were just standing there like an idiot.  And why don't you listen to me?  I'm always having to repeat myself when I talk to you."

            "Oh, just a lot on my mind." Brian said as they continued down the hallway.  "How are the preparations for the dinner going?"

            "Fine, it turns out that Ferengi can consume most of what Humans and Klingons can eat, so standard ambassadorial fare should be fine.  The cooks have everything they need to prepare the feast.  That reminds me, you owe me big time for this."

            "And how can I make it up to you?"

            "Well, if you have any spare time from playing with your new Klingon girlfriend…"

            "K'iHqas is not my girlfriend!  We have a mutual interest in challenging combat situations…"

            "I know, I know, I'm just giving you a hard time, but you could spend more time with your other friends, like me.  Why don't you take me out to dinner?  A dinner for a dinner sounds fair." 

            "Anytime, milady." Brian agreed. "Though I'm a little afraid as to what kind of dinner you think would equal an Ambassadorial Ball."

             "Great, I found the cutest little place just off the Promenade that I know you'll love, and if not, then you can pay attention to me. Oh, and one other thing, I expect you to dance with me at the Ball.  It's a human tradition I heartily approve of. I love to dance. Yes, dinner and dancing."

            "I knew this was going to cost me."

            The two Starfleet officers entered the area just outside of the spacedock door and joined the line of others roughly standing in formation.  S'ena nudged Lt. John Borda, Starbase 410's Chief Science Officer.  "What's up, why the sudden call?" She asked.

            "The Ferengi Ambassador has arrived, and from what I hear, has already made quite the impression." John answered.

            S'ena looked down the row towards the docking bay door.  She could see most of the important people on the station, or their representatives.  Commodore Jat and Ambassador Ke'reth stood at the front, nearest the door.  Next to them, like shadows were their aids, Capt. T'Pina and b'Sel.  Capt. T'Pina was probably acting as both aid and Vulcan ambassador, S'ena guessed.  

Talking quietly to a wall comm link was Head of Station Security, Lt. Cdr. K'SQqwa SuDs'qan'ya.  As one of many Klingons who joined Starfleet, he was a perfect choice to manage Security on the dual owned starbase.  S'ena could barely hear the voice of Lt. Cdr. Jeanette Warren, the starbase head of Operations, coming from the wall link.  Jeanette and S'ena had gotten to be good friends in their off duty time, and planned to sit at the same table during the Ambassadorial Ball.  Just as long as she kept her claws off of Brian. S'ena planned on claiming him all night. 

Major Madia Amme, the Bajorian Ambassador, paced back and forth.  S'ena wasn't sure about what to make of the Major.  She was a competent military officer, but had little patience for diplomatic duties.  S'ena felt some sympathy for her there.  The Major had no real place in the station chain of command, but she always showed up at the staff meetings.  Her input was good, often pointing out things that Starfleet personnel were blind to simply because of the way they were trained.  How she knew when the unscheduled ones were to be held, S'ena didn't know, but Maj. Amme always seemed to have her hand on the pulse of the station.  Maybe more like her hand about the throat of the station, S'ena thought.  Rumor had it that she had a special hatred of Cardassians. Fair enough, S'ena thought, after all, the Cardassians held Bajor for many years, and they had been anything but benevolent dictators.  Standing near enough to aid her, but not in her way, was the Major's chief of staff, Capt. Liana Recara.

S'ena's inspection was cut short as Brian cleared his throat in a manner denoting both warning and censure.  She fell into line and prepared to come to attention.  John gave her a conspiratual look, as if he too was a small child that had been caught doing something wrong.

The inner door of the docking bay opened up, and S'ena could hear the words of the Ferengi coming through the portal.

"See DaiMon, I told yew we could save on fuel if we let them slow us down with their tractor beam.  Yew owe me the bet and the cost of the fuel saved.  In the future remember rules 9 and 62. "Opportunity plus instinct equals profit." And "The riskier the road, the greater the profit."

As the Ferengi walked through the portal, everyone could see that two female Ferengi, who were practically hanging off of him, accompanied him.  Both were naked and short, with smaller ears than the male Ferengi. As he crossed towards the Commodore, someone blew the whistle to come to attention. S'ena looked over at Brian to see him staring red faced at the wall in front of him.  She almost giggled, he was so easily embarrassed.

Commodore Jat cleared her throat, and offered her hand to the Ferengi.  He looked at it as if expecting something to be in it.  Then he seemed to remember something, and taking her hand in both of his, he shook it with great enthusiasm.

"Ah, yew must be the Hew-mon DaiMon Jat." He said.

"I am Commodore Anrita Jat and I am a Trill, but yes, I am the representative of the United Federation of Planets, and the commander of this station.  A station, may I remind you, that your government wants an embassy on?  If you want that to happen, and to make any profit from being here, I suggest you learn to abide by the rules of intergalactic commerce.  I can forward a copy to you if you need to refresh your memory."

"Touché, Commodore, touché.  I apologize for any concerns our arrival may have caused.  Let me assure yew that it will never happen again." The Ferengi turned to the DaiMon behind him and said, "DaiMon, yew will leave my assistants and my luggage here, then take the shuttle back to the ship and depart," He turned back towards Jat, "Strictly according to the rules of intergalactic commerce.  Is there anything else that I can do for yew Commodore?"

"Yes, clothe your females."

"Wa, wa, what?  Commodore, as yew can tell, I am a bit of a traditionalist.  I have heard that clothing females was done in some parts of the galaxy, but I had thought the Federation had more tolerance of alien cultures, and as you can see," He said as he grabbed one of the females, "They are much better looking this way."

Ambassador Ke'reth roared with laughter.  "Things may get interesting with this one around."

"Still," Jat said through gritted teeth, "I want them dressed in public. Ambassador….?"

"Quek," the Ferengi replied, "The name is Quek, and I will comply with your request.  They will be dressed in public, providing you will buy the clothes.  We Ferengi have no feminine clothing, and have no idea what would be appropriate for your station, Commodore."

"Ambassador Quek, you will take your females to your quarters, and then you can purchase clothing in any of the shops along the promenade. Remember Rule 59, "Free advice is seldom cheap"  If you want my advice, I suggest you do nothing to disrupt my station."

Turning to the others, Jat introduced them.

"First is Ke'reth Zantal Makura, the Klingon Ambassador to Starbase 410."

"Ah, the Klingons, I have heard a lot about your race.  You like to purchase exotic arms and foods," Quek observed. "Yew are a rather large fellow, perhaps yew will like some of the goods I brought along to sell to the local natives, so to speak.  Foods of rare delicacy."

"I doubt you have brought anything that will be worth the price you will eventually ask for these…delicacies." Ke'reth growled. "I also have some advice for you and all of your staff, stay out of my way.  I find your presence…annoying."   

Ke'reth turned to Jat. "Commodore Jat, if you will excuse me, I believe I have more important duties demanding my attention than entertaining this flotsam."

"As you wish Mister Ambassador." Jat replied with a sigh.

Ke'reth turned on his heal and left, with b'Sel and the rest of the Klingon staff trailing behind him. Jat watched him go for a second, then turned to Quek.

"This is my second in command and Executive Officer, the acting Vulcan ambassador, T'Pina of Vulcan."

Quek raised his hand in something like the Vulcan salute and said "Live long and make profit."

T'Pina's eyebrow arched up as if scrutinizing a new type of bug.  "Thank you," she said in a calm voice, "Peace is good for business."

"Ah, the 35th rule," Quek replied. "Then you must also be aware of the 79th rule, "Beware…""

"of the Vulcan greed for knowledge." T'Pina finished for him.

"Yes, you will no doubt want to come by for the memory crystals I brought along.  They contain scientific data from the salvaged ruins of an ancient race our explorers found."

Jat noticed Major Amme bouncing on her toes impatiently.

"Ambassador Quek, may I introduce the Bajorian Ambassador, Major Madia Amme."

Quek looked as if he had been struck numb.  "Such beauty, I have never seen before.  Yew, May-jor, will have to come by for some private consultations between us.  Perhaps yewr government will not be so rude as to disregard our traditions.  I have something special for yew.  Something I'm sure you will not be able to resist."

"Ha! That'll be the day!  What about your female friends?"  

"Oh, yew wound me May-jor. May I call yew…Madia."

"No, you may not call me at all." Madia turned toward Jat. "Really Commodore, I'm beginning to agree with Ambassador Ke'reth…"

"Ambassador Madia," Jat said sternly, hinting at something only they knew.

Madia turned back to the Ferengi Ambassador,  "Ambassador Quek, on behalf of the people of Bajor, I welcome you to Starbase 410."

"Well, the way things are going, I see no reason to introduce you to the rest of the Ambassadors just yet." Jat decided. "There is an Ambassadorial Ball planed to celebrate our first year of peaceful operation.  We can get to know each other better there."  She waved over Lt. Cdr. K'SQqwa.  "Show the new Ambassador and his staff to their quarters."

"Yes ma'am." He replied. "If you will follow me…"

Quek and K'SQqwa moved down the line of officers standing at attention.  Following them came Quek's retinue of two naked females and several male Ferengi carrying large trunks.  As they passed S'ena, she reached for her tricorder and began to scan the luggage.  Quek heard the sound of the device and turned quickly.

"Commodore Jat, I must object.  Under intergalactic law, which you prize so much, an Ambassador's personal belongings and those of his staff are granted diplomatic immunity from unauthorized search.  That device can not be used on my personal items without my permission, which I do not grant."

"Commodore Jat," S'ena began, "As Starbase Quarantine officer, I must be allowed to determine if there are any dangerous lifeforms in these containers." 

"Dangerous lifeforms! Am I to be insulted by everyone on this station? First the representative of United Federation of Planets threatens to throw me off the station.  Then the Klingons refuse us when I offer them hospitality.  Finally I get a begrudging welcome from Bay-jor.  The Vulcans are the only ones who even tried to appear warm and inviting, and yew know how warm they can be.  Now this underling follows in the footsteps of her leader by insulting me.  It's against interstellar law to transport dangerous lifeforms, not to mention unprofitable.  Do you think I am stupid, hew-mon?" Quek started back towards his shuttle.  "Wait until the Grand Nagus hears about how his personal representative was treated.  I will lodge a formal complaint with the Federation Council.  I will..."

"Ambassador, please allow me to apologize.  Commander S'ena is just doing her job.  I'm sure she meant no insult.  The last thing anyone wants to do is see you leave.  Come with me, and I'll take you to your quarters myself.  We can get to know each other better along the way.  Remember rule number 194.  "It's always good business to know your customers before they walk in the door.""

"Yes, I guess yew are right." Quek admitted.  "This reminds me of rule number 203.  "New customers are like razor-toothed greeworms.  They can be succulent, but sometimes they bite back."

"Exactly!  In fact something comes to mind.  I may know a way you can get into the Klingon Ambassador's good graces." Jat said as they started down the corridor.

"Yes, I am listening." Quek responded.

"Well, if you could get hold of some of those Greeworms..."

S'ena started to protest when she felt the warm touch of a Vulcan hand on her shoulder.

"Stand down Commander, allow them to pass, that's an order." Capt. T'Pina said to her.  "Group dismissed!" she said to the rest of the formation.

"But if they do have anything dangerous..." S'ena protested.

"I imagine that if you hurry to Ops, you could use the internal sensors to scan their belongings before they set up any kind of dampening field."

"Do you think I have time?"

"Oh, yes.  The Commodore and I foresaw there might be a need like this, and she is taking them to their quarters the long way, but I suggest that you hurry."

"Yes ma'am!" S'ena said as she ran from the docking bay. 


	7. Part 7

The Adventure Continues… Part 7

            When Ensign Laura Shepherd arrived at Ops to relieve Lt. Laura-Jean Morris, she cheerfully asked, "How is our little girl doing with her love life?"

            Morris looked up from the console and smiled.  "Fine, I guess.  It turns out that her merchant love and she have a mutual appreciation for Bolian poetry.  They've been quoting it to each other for hours.  By the way, I went ahead and gave her the name we agreed on."

            "You mean she now answers to Laura-3?"

            "Yes, but I also programmed her to answer to Three for short.  I can just imagine Capt. T'Pina coming up here and asking for Laura while we're all here.  Yes! Yes! Yes!" Morris laughed.

"By the way, I had a talk with Capt. T'Pina, and she said that as long as we monitor the actions of the holoprogram, we can keep her online."

"Did you tell her about the problem?"

"Of course.  She didn't seem to be worried about it.  She just raised her eyebrow in that Vulcan sort of way," Shepard mimicked T'Pina's brow, which caused them both to laugh again.

"Well, if I were you, I'd either keep the volume down, or learn to like Bolian poetry."

"But what if Jartan ever does visit the station?"

"Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

            Just then, the main traffic control console beeped.

            "Hey, Capt. Brown has returned." Morris said.

            Shepard moved over to the Sensor console. "Shall I contact him, or do you want to?"

            "Hey, I went off shift two minutes ago.  You can take it.  I'll just stick around and listen in on 3.  That Bolian poetry is beginning to grow on me."

            "Great."  Shepard responded. "U.S.S. Rage, this is Starbase 410.  What is your status?"

            Captain Leigh Brown's face appeared on the main viewscreen.  "I'm fine, and I've brought along a new friend.  I got to make first contact, sort of."  

In the background Laura could see an elderly gentleman moving to peer over Capt. Brown's shoulder. "Now who would this pretty young girl be?" he asked.

Laura laughed at the complement and replied, "I'm Ensign Laura Shepherd, and at the moment I'm your traffic controller.  Capt. Brown, you may establish orbit M-25.  I look forward to meeting your new friend in person."

"And I look forward to meeting the new Laura who handled us on the way in.  She seemed so nice.  Tell her I want her to save a dance for me at the Ambassadorial Ball.  Rage out."

The screen went blank just in time, for the two Laura's had both begun to laugh so hard they rolled on the floor.

The assembly hall was the largest room on Starbase 410, outside of some of the hangers and storage compartments.  Tonight it was decked out in style with pastel bunting, various banners of members of the alien races represented, and dinning tables clad with candles and flowers.  

Lt. Cdr. Jeanette Warren moved hurriedly between the tables rearranging the names.  As always with such events, people who should have RSVP'ed hadn't, and those who hadn't arrived until the last minute wanted to sit with people who had been assigned seating long before.  Jeanette had complex computer algorithms at her disposal to seat everyone, but she preferred to use her artist's touch.  Sure, a computer could take into account the treaties and the cultural preferences, but did it know that the Risian and Molan ambassadors shared a common interest in the secretions of transparent insects? 

Everyone was arriving in ones or twos.  A few of the larger embassies came in groups, but most people just came in and joined the growing crowd.  Jeanette could hear the names of the minor ambassadors and legates being announced as they entered the main doorway.  Cadet 3rd Class Michael Hedley was doing the announcing.  Jeanette wondered about Brian's choice of Hedley since some of the ambassadorial names were quite difficult to pronounce.  The computer would have pronounced all of them correctly, and in several languages.  But then, Jeanette surmised, she wasn't using the computer either, and Cadet Hedley had a nice strong voice.

Finished with the last of the seating arrangements, Jeanette wandered over to Brian. He was engaged in conversation with the ambassador from Kora II.  She noticed that he wasn't as much engaged in conversation as trapped in a lecture.  Even though she wasn't feeling very generous towards Brian since he tricked her into helping with the Ball, he was Starfleet, so she decided to rescue him anyway.

"Commander Starr?" Jeanette said when the ambassador paused for breath. 

"Ah, Commander Warren," Brian said gratefully, "have you met the Koraian ambassador Andrak?  He was just explaining to me about an interesting form of subterranean worm on Kora which assists in their main food crop production."

            "Mister ambassador." Jeanette nodded, "I'm sorry, but I need to talk to Cdr. Starr for a few minutes.  It's official business I'm afraid."

            "Of course," ambassador Andrak replied. He said to Brian, "perhaps we can continue our discussion at another time." Andrak turned toward Jeanette. "It was nice meeting you Cdr. Warren."  

             After the ambassador left to find a new victim, Brian turned to Jeanette.  "Thanks, I owe you one."

            "That's two you owe me.  I'm keeping a tab on you and one of these days you're going to pay up big." She replied.  

            "Between you and S'ena, I'll never see my next paycheck!"

            "Ah, we cry for you, you poor benighted soul.  You just have so many problems being T'Pina's aid.  Shall I call ambassador Andrak back now?"

            "Please! Not that!" Brian lifted his hands in surrender. "To change the subject, how are the seating arrangements going?"

            "Oh, fine I think.  Capt. Brown brought in an unexpected guest and I had to find a suitable spot for him.  It seems he represents some new group in the Triangle.  Leigh got to make first contact with them, but really, that's all I know."

            "Did you put the Ferengi at the Commodore's table like we planned?"

            "Yes…Did you clear that with the Commodore before the dinner?"

            "Well, no, not really.  I thought it would be a good chance for her to talk to the Ferengi ambassador about joining the Federation.  You know, in a social environment."

            "Look, saving you from boring ambassadors I can do.  Saving you from angry Commodores is something else again.  I think you had better rethink this plan.  It's too late to begin changing all of the seating arrangements again, so…" Jeanette looked over Brian's shoulder, "I think I'll go now." 

            "What?" Brian turned around to see Commodore Jat approaching him.  He looked for an escape route, but she had already made eye contact with him.  She knows, he thought.

            "Cdr. Starr," Jat said in a friendly manner, "you seem to have done a wonderful job in arranging everything."

            "Oh really Commodore, I haven't done all that much.  I got other people to do most of the work.  Cdr. S'ena took care of the food selection, and Cdr. Warren did most of the seating and decorations.  Actually, Cdr. Warren did the lion's share of the work."

            "Seating arrangements, huh?  So, Commander, who am I sitting with?" Jat asked.  "No, don't tell me.  Let it be a surprise.  Just as long as it's not Ambassador Quek."  Jat looked across the room.  "Ah, I see some one I must talk to.  Please excuse me Commander."

            As Commodore Jat walked away Brian looked frantically for Jeanette.  "I've got to change the seating order."  He said as he hurriedly moved into the growing crowd.

            Captain Leigh Brown escorted his guest through the crowd towards the bar.  "You stay here while I find out where we are sitting," he told the elderly man.  Leigh saw Jeanette conversing with a Ferengi a few meters away. "I'll be right back."

            As he approached, the Ferengi turned and left.  Jeanette watched him go, a frustrated look on her face.  Leigh came up beside her and asked, "So, what did he sell you?"

            Jeanette looked at Leigh.  "A load of trouble.  I had Ambassador Quek seated next to the Commodore at dinner.  It was one of Brian's ideas to help win the Ferengi over to the Federation. Commodore Jat gave direct orders that his females shouldn't be seen without clothing.  Now I find out that he has refused to come to the ball if they have to be seen in clothes."

            "Well, his loss is our gain." Leigh replied.

            "But now I have to find someone to sit at the Commodore's table, and it took me so long to arrange all of the seating.  I'll never get it this good again."  

            "Well, what about my guest and myself.  We could sit with the Commodore.  I guarantee it will be interesting, and it might help with a problem that has cropped up."

            "Oh, I had hoped you would sit with us at my table.  I so want to meet your guest and learn all about your first contact."

            "I promise to tell you all about it tomorrow."

            "Very well, if you promise...I'll move you."

            "Scout's honor!"

            "You were never a scout!" Jeanette teased. They both laughed.  "I'll go do it now.  Dinner will start any minute."

            As Jeanette moved off toward the head table, Leigh turned back towards the bar to see his elderly guest surrounded by most of the female population of the ball.

            "How does he do that?" Leigh wondered.

            A soft bell chimed, announcing the start of dinner.  Everyone moved towards the candle lit tables.  After some milling, most of the guests were soon seated.  Brian found himself seated with S'ena, Jeanette and her two dates.  A couple of new Ensigns finished out the table complement.

"I thought we had agreed to spread out the command staff amongst the tables to keep order." Brian said to Jeanette.

            "I thought that we should let everyone have a good time, especially us!" She replied as she winked to her dates.  "Since I was tricked into making the seating arrangements, guess who's idea won out."

            Brian looked towards the head table.  "I don't see the Ferengi Ambassador."

            "And you won't!" Jeanette laughed.  "He decided not to come."

            Brian spun in his seat to look at Jeanette.  Worriedly he asked. "Then who did you sit with the Commodore?"  

            She let him stew for a second and then told him. "Captain Brown and his guest. He promised the Commodore wouldn't be bored."

            After disentangling his guest from the ladies, Leigh escorted him towards the head table.  Commodore Jat and Capt. T'Pina were already seated.  All of the tables were oval to facilitate conversation.  Even so, the Commodore sat at what anyone would say was the head.  T'Pina sat to her right, and the two spaces to her left were empty.

            As they approached the table, Leigh made the introductions.

            "Commodore Jat, may I introduce Professor Barry Bergman of Moonbase Alpha?"

            "How nice to meet you Professor Bergman."

            "As I am charmed to meet you Commodore."

            Jat turned towards T'Pina. "This is the acting Vulcan Ambassador and my Executive Officer, Captain T'Pina of Vulcan."

            "Ah, Capt. Brown has told me a lot about the accomplishments of your race.  I especially appreciated the strength of character shown by your philosopher, Surak. He had much to teach that my people will find interesting."

            "I am pleased that you might have found his teachings helpful, though I would like to hear more about your people.  It is not usual for Starfleet to have granted that much information so soon." T'Pina raised her eyebrow at Leigh.

            "Yes, Captain," Jat said. "Sit down and tell us all about your first contact and Professor Bergman's people.  I'm told his planetoid looks almost exactly like pre-twenty first century Earth's moon."

            "That's because it is Earth's moon." Leigh replied while sitting down. "It's Earth's moon from another time line. But it's the Professor's story.  I'll let him tell you."

            Professor Bergman took a deep breath and began. "In my time line, on September 9th, 1999, radioactive waste Earth had been storing on the moon exploded.  Some speculate that an alien presence was to blame.  The shock sent our moon on a one way trip into space. The rapid acceleration of the moon soon took us out of range of any of the space ships we had at the time."

"Earth couldn't have helped us even if they wanted to. It was devastated by the event.  The force of the moon's departure caused earthquakes and tidal waves there the likes never seen before.  We were on our own, and we had to make do with whatever chance or good fortune sent us."  

"Occasionally, we came into contact with planets suitable for life, but unfortunately, there was always something wrong with them.  Most were inhabited already.  In time we learned to live within our means by developing the technology we needed to survive."

            Leigh cut in, "And what technology! Commodore, they are light years ahead of us in life support systems and some medical fields, and their alternate technologies will be keeping our scientists busy for generations. They have developed a way to steer their moon by using gravity waves.  They can reach out to a solar system and make it attract them, or push against it, to alter course.  Why, we could even adapt it to move the Starbase, or adjust the orbit of a planet closer to an ideal, habitable, orbit."

            "I'm curious, how did the time line divide?" Jat asked.

            "You mean, when did it divide." Leigh corrected her.

            "Of course. I hate temporal physics." Jat admitted.

            "Well," Leigh went on, "I've narrowed it down to one man, though I don't know his name.  In our time line, in the late 1970's, one of the NASA's space shuttles, that's the old north american National Aeronautics and Space Administration, exploded soon after take off.  This was known as the Challenger disaster.  It soured space exploration for some time."

"Yes, I read about that somewhere.  It set Earth's space exploration back quite some time, except for a few like the first Mars expeditions and Khan Noonian Singh's supermen." Jat said.

Liegh continued.  "In the professor's time line, an unknown engineer leaked the information about the bad o-rings on the shuttle's solid fuel booster rockets to the press, the Sun Times, I think.  They believed him and ran the information on page one.  Soon, everyone was talking about it.  I became quite the scandle.  The newsies kept quiet about how they had gotten the info, and several went to jail to protect their source, so we don't know the individual's name.  But the effect was to cause a re-inspection of the entire NASA shuttle fleet.  Sure enough, the Challenger's boosters were faulty.  Once they were fixed, the shuttle took off as planned with no explosion.  The shuttle fleet was soon scraped for the Eagles, which used less fuel and could take off verticaly.  You could park one in your back yard!  Space exploration continued until the moon blasted away.  In our time line, that same engineer kept his mouth shut.  He sent seven people to an early grave and stymied space exploration for decades."

            "I wouldn't judge him too harshly Leigh. Just imagine the choice that one man had to make." Jat speculated. "Self preservation, or self sacrifice, based on the possibility the boosters might explode.  He may have had a family that depended on him, on his job. If he went public and was found out, most certainly his career would have been over. He didn't have the luxury we have of hind sight.  It is very rare when we can know the consequences of both choices. In my previous lives, and this one, I've had to make decisions that affected whole civilizations.  I never enjoy it."

            "It only goes to show you that one person can make a difference in the grand scheme of things." T'Pina concluded.

            "Brovo! Captain.  Actually, now that you bring it up, we have another one of those situations here now Commodore." Prof. Bergman said.  "We, my people, need your help.  We are not native to your time line, and unless we can find a way back to ours, we will all die.  You see, we fell into the wormhole by mistake.  Once inside, we had no alternative but to continue through.  The problem is that your time line and ours were slightly out of synch with each other.  The difference is small, but after enough time, it will kill everyone on Moonbase Alpha.  I calculate that we have a year at most before my people start to die, but it will be a slow and lingering death. The effects are showing up in our children even now.  That is why Captain Brown brought me here, to ask for your aid in our time of greatest need."

            "There is precedent Commodore." T'Pina injected. "On Deep Space Nine they have been freely sharing technology with another alternate universe."

            "If I remember correctly, most of that knowledge was either stolen, or given to them so that crew members of DS9 could get back to our universe." Jat commented dryly. "Hardly a good precedent to bring up. As the senior representative of the United Federation of Planets in the Triangle, I have to decide if any technology we trade, or assistance we render, will come back to haunt us."

            Jat looked at Prof. Bergman searchingly.  After a minute that seemed to last the professor's life time, she judged him to be sincere and agreed. "I believe we will set a new precedent. We will help you. I'm sure an exchange of technologies can be arranged, but I'll have to run it by Starfleet and the Federation Council. Meanwhile, I see no reason we can't start work on figuring out how to send you home now."  Jat looked down at her plate. "Or at least after desert."

            The table laughed, the tension broke.  Another hand reached across time and space to help a new found friend.

www.uss-rage.co.uk

Bajoran Vedek Sea Spirit


	8. Part 8 Disaster

The Adventure Continues…. Part 8

The section of space known as "The Triangle", where the Federation, Klingon and Romulan star empires all meet, is a place where civilizations and egos clash.  It is a contested, and congested, area of space, with commerce vessels and warships roughly equaling each other.

Near the end of the Dominion War with the inhabitants of the Gamma Quadrant, the newly re-forged alliance of the United Federation of Planets and the Klingon Star Empire, decided to build a project to protect both of their interests in the Triangle, and to re-supply their ships in the war against the Dominion.  

That project was Starbase 410, a giant "Guardian Class" space station.  Located near the "ram qul", or Night Fire, nebula, and integrating the latest in Klingon-Federation technology, it was a totally self-sufficient bastion of peace, and a guardian of civilization in the troublesome "Triangle", where tempers were often short, and trigger fingers even shorter.

Captain T'Pina, the Vulcan Executive Officer on Starbase 410, sat down in the captain's chair of the U.S.S. West Point.  The West Point was assigned to Starbase 410 as a training vessel, attached to the Deep Space Starfleet Academy.  Even if it was an emergency, it felt good to be in a captain's chair again.  Her Vulcan heritage surfaced as she suppressed the feelings, there was an emergency going on and she needed to save lives.

"Helm, take us out to 100,000 kilometers." T'Pina calmly ordered.

Major Madia Amme, sitting at the helm in place of the cadet that had been there, moved to comply with the order.

T'Pina turned her chair to the cadet behind her, "Comm, what is the status on the evacuation?"

Cadet 3rd Class Michael Hedley turned from his busy board and replied, "Commander Warren reports 75% complete, Captain."

"Get her on screen, please."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" came the crisp reply.

On the main view screen, Starbase 410 rotated slowly like a child's top, little hinting at the chaos which reigned inside.  Suddenly the view of the starbase was replaced by the image of a rather harried Lt. Cdr. Jeanette Warren.

"Commander Warren, what is the hold up on the evacuation of the station?" T'Pina asked.

"We are getting them out as fast as we can, Captain, but there is some kind of trouble on the promenade.  I've got too many people trying to gather onto the transporter platform at one time, and they are packed together too tightly to transport otherwise.  I've sent Lt. Commander Q'Squa down to sort things out."

"Very well, keep me informed."

On the promenade, Lt. Cdr. Q'Squa SuD'Sqania, a Klingon serving in Starfleet and Starbase 410's Chief of Security, was wading through the panicked press of bodies trying to reach the transporter platform.  "Make way!  Calm down!" He yelled, but his voice was lost on the mob.  Finally, pushing and shoving, he reached the transporter platform.  Turning to the crowd, he let out a loud Klingon battle cry.  It momentarily broke through the panic and the mob stepped back to give him room.  That's better, he thought, now to get some order.

"Everybody!  You know the drill, women and children first, families, try to stay together.  If you remain calm, we'll all live to see tomorrow, I promise."

"What good is your promise, Klingon?" A voice cried from the back.

"Starfleet is supposed to protect us!" Another yelled.

"We're all going to die!" screamed a woman.

Q'Squa pointed to a family of six in front.  "You, get on the platform, now!"

"Hey, why should they get to go instead of us?"

Q'Squa turned to the crowd, "If you all will proceed calmly, six at a time, we can all make it to safety."

"To heck with this women and children stuff," a large Nausicaan said.  The huge ugly alien shoved his way toward the platform. "I'm saying, everyone for himself."

Q'Squa braced himself.  Nausicaans were known throughout the alpha quadrant as being notorious trouble makers.  Q'Squa knew that this was just what he didn't have time for.  Q'Squa stepped back for just a second, not because he was afraid, but because he needed room to swing his fist straight into the jaw of the rude alien.  The Nausicaan went down like a rock. 

"You promised we'd all get off the station!"

"If we've got so much time, why couldn't he get off now?"

"The Klingon's picking who gets to live, and who has to die!" 

Unfortunately, this last statement started another panicked rush toward the transporter platform.  Q'Squa, caught off guard, fell.  People trampled him in a vain attempt to reach the platform.  Q'Squa struggled to regain his feet until a kick to the temple laid him out cold.  The people who reached the platform realized that there were too many other people on the platform for them to transport.  They started to fight, trying to force each other off the over crowded area.  The over stressed transporter pads finally gave way under the combined weight.  The fact that the transporter was now smashed and useless went unheeded by the pressing mob.

In transporter room 4, Lt. Commander Brian Starr helped an enviro-systems technician to gather his wayward children onto the transporter platform.  He looked toward the door as it hissed open.  Walking regally across the room was the Klingon Ambassador, Ke'reth Zantai Makura.  One of b'Sel's children, KharIS, was in his arms.  Brian noted that the ambassador never seemed to lose his cool, even in the middle of a station wide evacuation and carrying a crying child.  

Behind him came b'Sel, the ambassador's chief of staff, with her two other children, Rhahl and K'regh.  All three Klingon children were trying to keep a stiff upper lip. Though only two were succeeding, it was evident that they were all scared.

Ke'reth stepped up to the now empty platform.  Brian helped b'Sel and the children arrange themselves correctly.  

"We're ready to transport you to the West Point ambassador."

"That won't be necessary," Ke'reth replied.  "General K'batlh, we are ready." He said into his communicator.

The slightly off buzz of the Klingon transporters hummed and the Klingons were gone, safely transported to the IKV Hegh qaD, General K'batlh's Klingon battlecruiser.  

Brian turned to the transporter chief and said, "Is that everyone assigned to us, Chief?"

"No sir, according to the computer logs, Lt. Cdr. S'ena has yet to leave the station.  She failed to show up for transport."

"Well, Chief, I might know where she is.  Report our status to Ops. If I'm not back in 5 minutes, leave without me."  The door barely opened in time as Brian ran out.

Starr fought his way through the crowds on the promenade and into the quieter sections of the starbase, his destination, the science labs.  Brian had a good idea that that was where he'd find S'ena. Along the way, he told people he ran into to go to transporter room 4 for evacuation.

At one point, he ran into some Ferengi looters.  Recognizing one of them, he yelled out, "Quek! Don't you realize the station is about to explode?  You don't have time for this.  Get your people off the station now!"

"Do not have time to make a profit?  Are yew crazy hewmon?  When everyone else panics, that is the perfect time to make profit.  That's rule number 198." Quek replied.  "Or at least, it should be."

Brian didn't have time to argue with him, so he left him to his fate. When he reached the Xeno-Biology Lab, sure enough, S'ena was there.

"S'ena, we have to go!  The station is going to blow up any second now."

"Brian, go ahead without me.  I've got to save a few more of my plants and animals.  If I can get them all into stasis cages, they might survive the blast.  That is if engineering can keep it down to 80 kilobars."

"S'ena, this is a warp core breach.  When it goes, it's going to be a lot more than 80 kilobars.  It is going to start a chain reaction that will tear the station apart."

"But Brian, I've got to save them!"

"S'ena, you can't.  You don't have time!"

"Then leave without me!"

"No!" Brian yelled, "If you don't come with me now, I won't leave and you'll kill us both."

S'ena looked at Brian for a second which seemed to stretch out for an eternity.  Finally, she made a decision.  "Fine, just help me find Catastrophe first.  I couldn't stand to lose him."

Brian and S'ena began to look for the hex-cat.  They quickly found him in a bigalow tree, his body matching the pod like leaves.  As S'ena held him, Brian contacted the West Point.

"Starr to West Point, two to beam out."

As the familiar hum of the transporter beam began to sound, Catastrophe panicked.  Tearing himself away from S'ena, he jumped down out of her arms.

"Tass! No!" S'ena said as the lab disappeared.  A moment later, the transporter room aboard the West Point appeared around them.  As soon as they materialized, S'ena yelled, "Beam me back to the Xeno-Biology Lab!"

"Belay that order, Chief!" Brian said.  Turning to S'ena, he said "It's too late, S'ena.  We don't have enough time.  I'm sorry, we've lost him."

"No!" S'ena cried as she ran from the room.  

Commodore Jat was in engineering.  She'd ordered a protesting T'Pina to the U.S.S. West Point to over see the evacuation of the station.  Jat was sure that she could figure find out whatever was causing the core breach, or she'd die trying.  Most of the engineers had been ordered to leave, but several had disobeyed, staying to help slow down the core reaction.  Such was the stuff of Starfleet engineers, Jat thought. She thought to remember to award, and reprimand, each one of them if they lived through this.

Jat wasn't trying to stop the breach.  Many more qualified engineers were trying to do that.  Lt. Cdr. Saryena Remora was running from station to station in her attempt to eject the core.  Instead, Jat was trying to find out who, or what, had caused it.  The list of things that would stop a core breach were longer than your arm.  It just shouldn't have happened.  Not out of the blue.  There had been no battle.  There had been no castatrophic malfunction.  Someone had deliberately worked hard to cause this emergency.  But who and why?  These were questions Jat had to know the answers to.

Time after time, computer commands to avert the disaster failed.  Something was actively stopping them from saving the station.  Of one thing Jat was certain, it was sabotage.  If only she could find out who.

Wait, there she had it.  A computer virus had been hidden in some code, hidden very well, too.  Jat recognized Romulan code hidden in the virus.  But a clue to the saboteur was in the station security logs.  A security over ride that didn't belong.  It wasn't right.  It shouldn't have been there.  Jat knew who had done this to her station.  It was.....Brian Starr!

Everything went white.

On the promenade, Q'Squa became conscious to the wailing of the sirens.  He hurt all over.  Several bones were broken and his body was a mass of bruises.  Painfully, he opened his eyes.  The panicked mob was gone.  There was no one there now but the Nausicaan he had floored earlier, still unconscious.  Q'Squa attempted to sit up.  At first the pain was too great, it almost caused him to go unconscious again, but Q'Squa was a Klingon warrior, pain meant nothing to him.  The second time he tried, he was able to stand.  At least his legs weren't broken, though his feet and hands most certainly were.

The transporter platform beckoned him.  His comm badge was missing, but if he could reach the platform, he would be safe.  But first, he had to save the Nausicaan. With his broken hands screaming in pain, he hauled the unconscious alien to the platform.  He noticed the pads were crushed and useless.  Picking the Nausicaan up and throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, Q'Squa started down the promenade towards the next transporter room.  As he staggered down the empty corridor, he hoped he would make it.  He could only guess as to how much time he had left.  

The Nausicaan was beginning to stir.  Q'Squa set him down.  As the alien's eyes opened, he took in the deserted promenade.

"You could have left me and saved yourself.  Why would you risk yourself for me?  You must know I'll never be grateful."

"I didn't do it for you," Q'Squa replied in a tired voice.  "I did it for myself, for duty.  Come on, we've got to go.  We have little time left."

Suddenly, they ran out of time.  Explosions racked the station.  Q'Squa leapt up and yelled, a battle cry in defiance to the gods, warning them that he was on his way, as fire consumed them both.

At Ops, Jeanette Warren ordered, "Lt. Morris, Ensign Shepherd, evacuate the station, get to the transporter room."

"Sorry, Commander," Laura-Jean Morris replied, "I'm too busy coordinating with Engineering, I think we can save the upper half of the station."

"And I'm still trying to get all of the civilian spacecraft out of the potential blast zone," Laura Shepherd added.

Jeanette was too busy to argue with them, and they were doing their jobs.  She just hoped they wouldn't wind up dying at their posts, they were both so young and held so much promise.

"Oh, my God!" Laura-Jean cried.

Jeanette understood what had happened without looking at the displays.  She lifted the cover on a large blinking red button and pressed it.  She hoped the Starfleet engineers had had a good day when they thought up this plan.  It was their only hope.

Huge clamps sent shutters through the Ops room floor.  Lights dimmed all around them.  Ensign Shepherd's eyes went wide with fright, the presumed immortality of youth warring with the realization that the end was near. 

Suddenly, they were all pressed to the floor, the inertial dampeners only taking part of the shock.  Huge chemical engines shot the Ops room up in the direction of the top of the starbase.  Riding on rails, the whole room was sent up a shaft toward a hatch which was opening.  Flames chased the capsule as it was headed for open space.  

But at the last second, something went horribly wrong.  One of the rails that helped guide the rocketing Ops was twisted.  The room lodged in place and stuck fast.  The three Starfleet officers were sent crashing into the ceiling, plastered into oblivion only seconds ahead of fiery annihilation, or sweet safety.

Back on the bridge of the U.S.S. West Point, S'ena and Brian stepped out of the turbolift.  "Captain, you've got to...." S'ena's voice caught in her throat as she saw the station blow up on the main view screen.  The explosions raced each other up the spine of the mushroom shaped starbase, each one touching off the next in a string of destruction.  Everyone on the bridge watched as the station they had worked so hard on for over a year disappeared in a bright light that rivaled the nearby Night Fire nebula. 


	9. Part 9

The Adventure Continues…. Part 9

            There was a moment of stunned silence on the bridge of the U.S.S. West Point.  Starbase 410 was completely destroyed.  Slowly, reports started to come in from the surviving vessels.  The IKV Hegd qaD, a Klingon Battlecruser attached to Starbase 410, hailed them.

"Captain T'Pina," General K'batlh said from the main viewer, "The ambassador and I would like to send our condolences for the death of Commodore Jat and the rest of your Starfleet personnel.  They died fighting a good fight.  We were honored to have served with them."  

The Klingon General paused, then continued, "We are heading to the Klingon colony of K'Dorn.  Once there, we will off load our refugees and continue our mission in the triangle.  We shall also attempt to find out who is responsible for the destruction of our starbase.  If you are able to discern who it was, let us know." K'batlh leaned closer to the screen and growled. "We would be very interested."

            "Good luck and good hunting, General." T'Pina answered.  "Be assured, we will let you know if we find out anything.  T'Pina out."

            "Major Amme, please set course for Bajor and join me in the briefing room." T'Pina asked.  She turned to Brian Starr and said, "Commander Starr, please have any of the surviving Command Staff report to the briefing room in 10 minutes.  Mr. Hedley, you have the Conn."

            With her orders given, T'Pina stood up and walked stiffly towards the turbolift, leaning more than usual on her cane.  "We have much to discuss."

            S'ena was depressed.  As a half Orion, her body contained scent glands, which tended to effect most of the others around her.  If she felt an emotion, her body released hormones which duplicated that emotion in most humanoids.  As she looked around the briefing room, S'ena noted that everyone else there was also in a funk.  

There were few of the command staff left.  Major Media and Lt. John Broda were quietly talking on one side of the triangular table.  Tech Ellie Barstow, while not really part of the command staff yet, was there, though more subdued than normal.  S'ena laughed to herself, she was more subdued than normal herself.  Her laughter threatened to overwhelm her, so she quickly suppressed it.  If she didn't get her emotions into line, she could disable everyone who was left.  Everyone except Brian she noted.

            Brian was working on the computer interface at the narrow end of the table.  S'ena had wanted to alternately hate him for forcing her to leave Catastrophe behind, and to seek comfort in his arms.  Undecided, she had approached him, but he had thrown himself into his work, completely ignoring her.  With nothing to do, she just sat at the opposite end of the table and kept to herself.

            Captain T'Pina entered the briefing room and took her chair.  Leaning back, she let out an uncharacteristic sigh.  "Commander Starr, please brief us."

            Brian took a deep breath.  "As far as we can tell, we lost everyone in Ops when the ejection system failed. Commodore Jat and Lt. Commander Remora were in Engineering when it went.  Presumably they were also responsible for holding off the explosion which allowed more people to escape.  Reports from survivors place Lt. Commander Q'Squa in the promenade, where he was attempting to control the frightened evacuees. Though given the opportunity to leave, they all remained at their posts and were directly responsible for saving over 5,000 lives and 70 ships.  Still, 1,111 people died, or are listed as missing."

            "Among the surviving staff, the only one not present is Dr. Strachan, who is administering to injured.  Everyone else is here." Brian looked up. "That is all."

            Everyone looked around the table at each other, not seeing who was left, but seeing who was missing.

            T'Pina cleared her throat.  "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am about to engage in a highly illegal activity which, I hope, will bring back our lost comrades.  I have deemed the action has a high probability of failure, and if that happens, I shall pay the cost.  But it is a chance that I must take.  You, on the other hand, do not.  I can't tell you any more than this.  If you would like to leave, no one should hold it against you, but I suggest you decide now.  Anyone who wishes to leave may do so."    

            T'Pina paused a moment.  When no one moved, she continued.  "I have come up with a plan, but it must not leave this room or all is lost.  Major Amme, please call in Vedek Sespirie."

            Major Amme rose from her seat and crossed to the door.  She returned with a female Bajoran S'ena had only seen once or twice on the station.  Madia showed the Vedek to a chair she pulled back from the table.  S'ena couldn't guess why the Bajoran religious leader was asked to join.  The way Madia showed her respect, S'ena thought she must be someone of some importance.

            T'Pina leaned forward, placing her hands together on the table.  "Vedek Sespirie, we are glad you could join us."

            "Be assured, Captain, I sympathize with the loss you have suffered today.  If it weren't for your valiant sacrifices, many of my people on the station would not be with us."

            "Your words gladden our heavy hearts, Vedek, but I have learned from experience that the best way to deal with strong emotion is to learn something new.  Specifically, we'd like to learn about…."

            "Standard orbit, Bajor, Captain." Maj. Amme announced from the helm.  Her duties momentarily finished, she turned to face T'Pina with a questioning look.

            "Captain, we are being hailed from the planet, and from Deep Space Nine." Cadet Hedley said.

T'Pina stood up. "Please ask DS9 to wait until we have answered the hail from the planet.  Tell them we will be with them as soon as possible." T'Pina took a deep breath.  "Place the Bajoran messager on the main viewer."

The view of stars and planet on the main screen dissolved and changed into the visage of an elderly Bajoran Vedek.  The woman looked sternly from the screen at the entire bridge crew.  She radiated authority.  Captain T'Pina looked her in the eyes and asked, "Vedek Kirin, How does our request before the Vedek Assembly fare?"

"Captain T'Pina, I must tell you that your request was very unorthodox, and thus, was doomed from the beginning.  I have the unfortunate task of telling you that your request has been denied.  What you asked was just too dangerous.  Perhaps you can find some other way?"

T'Pina appeared crestfallen.  "We thank the Vedek Assembly for their time and for considering our request in the first place.  We hope that the Prophets smile upon the people of Bajor." T'Pina hesitated for a second.  "Do you mind if we stay in orbit for a few days?  We have no current orders, and some of my people would like to take shore leave after what we have been through."

"Of course, captain.  Your people are always welcome on Bajor."

With that, Vedek Kirin ended her transmission and the view screen returned to it's previous display of stars and the planet Bajor.  

"Cadet Hedley, please send my regards to DS9." Capt. T'Pina asked.

"Right away, captain." Cadet Hedley said as he turned toward his board.  "I have Colonel Kira.  Transferring to main screen."

An angry Bajoran female appeared on the screen.  "Captain T'Pina, I presume?  Why do I have Temporal Investigations in my office?  Did you know that they were here hours before you arrived?  They want to talk to you, captain.  Would you be so kind as to transport yourself over to DS9 right away?"

"Of course, Colonel.  I'll be right over." T'Pina signaled to Hedley that the conversation was over, and once again Bajor appeared on the screen.  "T'Pina to command staff, please report to transporter room one."

"Cadet Hedley, announce a 24 hour shore leave for all non-essential personnel. Then divide the essential personnel into three 12 hour shifts, one to commence right away, and the others to start shore leave after they return.  I'll be on DS9, you have the Conn.  Major Amme, you are with me."

Media kept to herself until they were both in the turbo lift.  When they were alone she said, "Transporter room one." Turning to T'Pina.  "Well, I guess that tears it.  We're finished."

T'Pina looked at Media.  "On the contrary, we have only begun.  I assumed that word of what we were attempting would leak out.  If nothing else, Temporal Investigations always seems to know things before they happen.  I have taken their interference into account."

Media looked at T'Pina with astonishment.  "You mean you're going ahead with this plan after all?  The Vedek Assembly turned us down! Temporal Investigations is already here!  There is no way we can succeed!"

"Major," T'Pina's eyebrow rose, "You surprise me.  Logic dictates that since Temporal Investigations is here, then we must have succeeded to some extent.  Otherwise there would be no need for their presence.  As for the Vedek Assembly, I assumed that they would turn us down.  I only asked in case I was wrong.  What they desire, or do not desire, is irrelevant to our plan.  It would have just made things easier if they had agreed."

The turbo lift came to a halt, and so did their conversation.  The two went down the corridor to transporter room one.  Inside, Brian Starr, S'ena, John Broda and Tech Ellie Barstow, waited.

T'Pina stepped up to the platform.  "I am going to talk to Temporal Investigations.  I will delay them as long as possible, but you must hurry.  The plan goes on as before, just expect more resistance.  Remember, the lives of everyone who died on the station depend on you.  Transport."

Ellie activated the transporter, and T'Pina disappeared in a shower of sparks and a familiar hum.  Ellie then took some readings and said, "The temple is shielded from transport.  I can't get us inside.  The closest I can put us is the front steps."

"That wouldn't work." Maj. Amme injected.  "We will have to disguise ourselves and come in from a location further away.  I suggest we change clothes and have Dr. Strachan make cosmetic changes to those of us that need it.  We'll meet back here in half an hour."

In an alley, not far from the main Bajoran Temple, 5 robed people appeared.  If you had seen them, you would have instantly been suspicious by the furtive looks they gave the surrounding alley.  Seeing no one was there, they relaxed.

"Remember, let me do the talking." Major Amme said softly.  "If we are going  to get pasted the front gate, everyone take their cues from me and try to remember your Bajoran briefing.  If anyone talks to you, look at me. I'll answer for you."

The party moved down the alley and into the street.  Moving single file with their hoods up to cover their faces, they appeared as pilgrims from any part of the galaxy.  Soon, they reached the main temple of the Prophets on Bajor.


	10. Part 10

The Adventure Continues…. Part 10

Disguised as Bajoran pilgrims, Maj. Madia Amme, Lt. Cdr.'s Brian Starr and S'ena, Lt. John Broda and Tech Ellie Barstow climbed the steps to the main temple of the Prophets on Bajor.  Nervously, they passed between the temple guards at the main entrance.  Inside, they had little time to take in the wondrous beauty of the main gathering area.  Columns supported arches high over head.  Fantastic paintings on the ceiling showed a diorama of the Celestial Temple and the walls were covered with scenes of the various tales of the Prophets.  Statues of notable Emissaries and First Ministers dotted the room, one of which appeared to be a human male.  If the party of five had more time, or been there on personal business, they would have been awestruck by the beauty and serenity of the place.  As it was, none of them were able to appreciate it.

Following the major's lead, the party moved down a side passage exiting the main entrance.  They continued through several passages, occasionally passing watchful Temple Guards.  Major Amme was apparently well known on Bajor, because she was recognized several times.

"Madia Amme," one Temple Guard said, "Have you changed your mind and decided to join us at the temple?"

"No, Bartok." Madia replied recognizing an old resistance friend.  "I'm only assisting some pilgrims to cut through the usual red tape.  If they had to wait for normal channels, they would still be here during the Days of Atonement."

"Ha, ha. I know what you mean.  Well, after you're done, stop by the dormitory and visit.  More and more of us old-timers are seeking the peaceful life of the temple.  Colonel Loral came in to give his vows last month, and should now be ready to receive visitors."

 "Colonel Loral?  Who would have thought that old bruiser would have settled down?"

"Madia, many of us scarred by the occupation have decided to seek healing within the temple walls.  You should think about joining us."

"Well, with all of the old guard turning religious, who will teach the new pups?  Besides, with everyone getting out of the militia, I'm hoping it will be easier to make rank."

"Madia, you make us all proud, but," Bartok added, "You are always welcome to visit."

"Thanks, Bartok."  

The party continued on. Media took side passages when she was able to, and boldly strode through the areas that she couldn't circumvent.  It seemed to Brian that she was taking the long way to get to their goal, but he trusted the Bajoran major to know best. 

Eventually, they came to a closed door in a hallway.  It looked no different than many they had already passed.  It was unguarded and plain, but Madia stopped and turned to the rest of the group.  "This is the last door.  Inside this room is the Orb of Time.  Are you sure you want to continue?"

Brian stepped forward.  "We have no choice.  You heard what T'Pina said.  The lives of everyone who died on Starbase 410 depend on us.  We must see this through."

"Then you leave me no alternative but to place you all under arrest." Madia tapped her Bajoran communicator.  "Gentlemen."  Six Temple Guards appeared, three on either end of the corridor, Bajoran phaser pistols drawn.  The group pulled their phasers in response.

"You traitor!" S'ena cried.  "You led us right into a trap!  We thought you were with us, helping us save all of those lives!"

"Believe me, I was!" Madia replied.  "But after the Vedek Assembly turned us down, I knew that continuing on would be against the will of the Prophets." Madia took a step towards S'ena.  "I'm sorry.  I did lead you to the right door, and I asked if you still wanted to do this.  You could have changed your mind.  I hoped that you would.  Please, surrender now.  Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be.  As you can see, you have no choice." 

"I have a choice!" S'ena screamed.  "And I choose to save Tass and the rest!" S'ena pointed her phaser at Madia and fired.  Madia screamed as her body disintegrated.  The rest of the Starfleet personnel dove for cover.  S'ena, the only clear target for the Bajoran forces, went down in a lethal hail of fire.

Brian noted S'ena's death, but it remained outside of his thoughts.  When the shooting started, Brian found himself in the "One", a meditative state the people of his home planet, Avalon, had developed after years of personal training and combat.  For Brian, time had slowed to a crawl.  The positions of the Temple Guards were noted, and his unconscious mind put into action motions which would pick them off, one by one, in the minimal amount of time.  Still, it wasn't enough.  Behind him he could hear Ellie take two hits and go down.  John got off two shots, taking out two of the guards, before a third guard nailed him.  Brian spun in place, drew a bead on the last guard, and fired just as the guard turned toward him.

Brian took a second to make sure here were no more targets then released the "One".  He stood up and ran over to S'ena.  Even set on "stun", the combined energy of several shots together had been enough to kill her.  Brian cradled her dead body in his arms.  Inside him, a dangerous resolve hardened his heart.  

Placing her delicately back on the floor, Brian went over to Ellie.  She was also beyond help.  Brian noted that John was still breathing though, and he dragged him toward the door.

The door. Brian hoped Madia had told them the truth when she said that she had led them to the correct door.  If she hadn't, then Brian figured there was no way he could finish his task.  He looked at the door carefully.  It seemed just like the other doors he had passed in the temple.  On the door sill was a touch pad.  Placing John down next to the door, he put his hand on to the touch pad. Nothing happened.

Brian went over to the nearest Temple Guards.  Except for S'ena's, all of the Starfleet phasers had been set to "stun".  They were still breathing.  Brian chose the highest ranking one, Bartok, and picked him up.  He then took him over to the door and placed Bartok's hand onto the touch pad.  The door opened.  

Dropping Bartok, Brian pulled John through the door.  He could find no way to close it.  Inside, the room was softly lit.  At the far end stood a pedestal with a box on it.  Brian  slapped John on the cheek.  Groggily, John tried to fend Brian off.

"Come on John, wake up.  I need you."

"What happened?" John replied.

"We fought them off, but I need you to guard the door.  Can you do that for me?"

"Sure pal, just let me at them."

Brian wasn't too sure John had fully recovered from the phaser blast.  "Look, John, hold this door.  I'm going to go over to the pedestal.  If you hear anything, let me know."

"Got it.  I can do that." John answered tiredly.

"John, if I don't succeed, you'll have to try."

"I just hope they give me a few minutes to clear my mind.  Go on, they'll be here soon."

Brian took one last look at John, and then scanned the door for some way to close it.  Seeing none, he then turned and walked to the end of the room.  On the pedestal was a ornamental box.  Brian looked it over carefully, then opened it.  Inside was…

Brian found himself in Engineering on Starbase 410.  Around him, the technicians moved in a calm manner.  Everything was normal.  

"Brian Starr," Lt. Commander Saryena Remora said, "We don't see you down here very often.  Tell me, what graces us with your presence?"

Brian was still taking in the transformation, but replied quickly.  "Oh, just tracking down some information for Captain T'Pina.  You know how much she likes complete reports."

"Well, tell me what you are looking for, and maybe I can help."

"I'm not sure, really.  Something out of the ordinary." 

"You mean besides seeing you here?"

"Ha, ha.  Yes.  If you can spare a computer console, I'm sure I can track down the information."

"Well, I was about to go off shift.  You can use mine."

"Is there perhaps someplace more private?  I wouldn't want to have your staff nervous because I was here, and I might need some quiet."

"There is a auxiliary engineering control room this way.  I'm sure you won't be disturbed there.  Hardly anyone goes there anymore. I use it myself when I need to work alone."  Saryena led Brian down a passage from main engineering.  She paused by a large double door.  "Here it is.  If you need any help, I'll be around for a few more minutes.  Just give me a call."

Saryena left Brian standing in the hallway in front of the door.  Brian turned toward the door and said, "Open."  Nothing happened.

Brian drew his phaser and said, "Computer, Security override, Brian Starr, 2B-R0-2B.  Open auxiliary engineering control room door."

The doors opened to reveal the darkened room.  Brian was sure someone was already there.  Cautiously, he stepped into the room.  The auxiliary engineering control room was round, with 12 alcoves branching off.  Within each alcove was a computer terminal displaying the status of the station's various power systems.  Brian embraced the "One".  

In a split second Brian confirmed the presence of someone in the room.  One of the displays was in interactive mode.  Had it just been left that way, it would have reverted to display status within 5 minutes.  Brian could see, from where he was near the door, that the codes activated were to the core controls.  Whoever had been here must have heard Brian and Saryena's conversation outside the door.  

The only alcoves Brian couldn't see, were the ones to his right and left.  Someone was hiding in either one, or both, of them. One thing was sure, Brian thought, standing in the doorway was one sure method of getting pegged.

Brian decided to try the alcove to the left.  Spinning around the wall divider, he found the alcove empty. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the computer console across the room mimicking the commands being input from another location. He pressed himself against the wall, bracing himself for a move on the last alcove.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." A voice announced from the last alcove.  "I have rigged this to go as soon as I touch this button, and I assure you, I will press it if you move on me." 

"Who are you?  Why are you doing this?" Brian asked to gain time.

"Who am I? No one of importance.  Why am I doing this?  For a lot of latinum." The voice replied.

Brian decided to try talking to him.  "A lot of people will die because this.  You will be hunted for the rest of your life.  You'll never be able to trust any one, always afraid someone will turn you in.  Do you really want to live on the run, with the deaths of thousands on your hands? Is the Latinum worth it?"

The voice was quiet for a moment, then replied.  "What did those people do to help my family when Cardassia arrived to claim their planet?  Where were your precious Starfleet and Klingon Empire then?  The Cardassians wiped us all out.  If I hadn't been off planet, I'd have been dead too." There was a pause.  "I've been living on borrowed time since."

Brian could hear that he was running out of time.  The voice was resigned to its fate.  It almost sounded as if it wanted to die, to end its torment.  "You can't bring them back by killing more innocent people.  You'll just reinforce a vicious cycle of loss and revenge." 

The voice became angry.  "You Federation types are so typical.  You are so full of yourselves, so arrogant.  You have things too easy.  Perhaps the destruction of your mighty new space station will take you down a notch."

Both of them were surprised when the door opened again.  A new voice spoke to them.  "Brian, don't do it, you'll fail."

Brian recognized T'Pina's voice.  "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Your efforts to stop Technician Michael Wong from recoding the core controls will fail."

"How did you know who I am?" the voice from the other alcove asked.

"That is irrelevant.  The fact that I know will mean that you will never enjoy your latinum, which I might add, the Romulans that were going to pay you never meant to let you live to see."

Brian was confused.  Who was this T'Pina?  Was she a current timeline T'Pina?  Was she from the timeline's future?  Was she a co-conspirator?

"Damn!  I have half a mind to push this button anyway." Wong said.

"You will, in approximately 7.5 seconds." 

"T'Pina, I need to know.  How will I fail?" Brian asked.

"Because I shoot you." T'Pina replied matter-of-factly.

Brian swung out to confront T'Pina, but made sure his first shot went towards Wong.  T'Pina shot him before he could get a bead on the saboteur.  His body disappeared without a trace, erased from existance.  Wong, on the other hand, had plenty of time to press his button, dooming the station to his prerecorded instructions.

T'Pina moved with a surprising speed for someone who was disabled.  Her hands found the correct spots on the tech's face by instinct.

"My mind to your mind.  My thoughts to your thoughts." T'Pina intoned in an ancient ritual from Vulcan. "Our thoughts become one."  The two of them stood frozen in place for a moment which, for Michael Wong, seemed to stretch forever as his mind was first taken apart, then reassembled.  T'Pina felt his grief as he returned to his home to find his family all dead.  Wong learned of the pain T'Pina had endured during the tragedy at Wolf 359, when she was injured beyond medical science's ability to repair.

T'Pina released Wong and he fell to the floor.  Armed with the information she needed, T'Pina began to reprogram the core control codes.  Time, previously her ally, was now her enemy.  She had only a few minutes to enter the corrected control codes and reverse the catastrophic destruction of the station.  Behind her, Wong stirred.

T'Pina took a second to take a computer disk from her pocket and insert it into the slot on the console.  

She soon finished her re-programming and input the corrected codes. "Now, Mr. Wong…" T'Pina said as she turned towards him with her phaser drawn.  Wong was pointing a strange gun at her.

"What you did to me…  I don't understand…  It was worst than the Cardassians.  You're Starfleet, how could you?" Wong cried in torment.  "I had to re-live the loss of my family again." 

"Your pain is inconsequential compared to the deaths you were about to cause.  Soon, you will learn to live with it, where the innocent people you were going to kill would not.  The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one.  With your plot to destroy Starbase 410 finished, their needs are met.  Now your needs must be seen to.  Allow me to help you rebuild your life."

"I don't think so." Wong said, then he shot T'Pina.

The gun made a load noise and a solid projectile tore through T'Pina's chest.  She fired her phaser at Wong in response.  He and his strange gun disappeared.  T'Pina looked at the hole in her chest, her life blood pumping out from the pressure of her two hearts, and spreading green across the floor.  She fell, no longer able to stand from loss of blood.

"Oh, Temporal Investigations never said anything about this." T'Pina said in a small childlike voice.  She laid back, closed her eyes and relaxed. 

            Commodore Anarita Jat arrived at T'Pina's office in the morning just like she did every morning.  Her going to T'Pina's office was one of the considerations Jat didn't mind making to T'Pina's injuries to keep such a good organizer and second in command.  At least it got her out of her own office and into the station.

            She entered T'Pina's office to find her looking confused at her computer interface.  Jat had very rarely seen any Vulcan looking confused, and was curious as to what would have such a affect on her friend.

            "I think you are going to want to have a look at this message, Commodore." T'Pina announced.

            "Why? Who is it from?" Jat asked.

            "It appears to be from myself, though I have no memory of making it.  It tells a rather strange tale."

            Jat quickly perused the message, then re-read it once again more slowly.  "Have you been able to verify any of this?" She finally asked.

            "Lt. Cdr. Q'Squa reports that there is evidence of phaser fire in the auxiliary engineering control room and Technician 3rd Class Wong is missing. He also found blood, matching mine, on the floor.  He says that preliminary analysis of cell tissue found in the phaser burns appears to be from Tech Wong, Lt. Cdr. Starr. Starr has no idea how his cell tissue might have gotten there, since he's never been, but there is a record of his using his security override to enter it.  The security logs also show myself and Lt. Cdr. Starr sleeping in our quarters, and at the same time as being in the control room."

            "Lt. Cdr. Remora reports that there are changes to the core programming consistent with the story.  Nothing she can't fix.  And Lt. Morris says that one of the Ops jettison rails is bent near the outer hatch.  It's significant enough to compromise the system, but something easily overlooked in an inspection.  As for the message its self, it contains private personal codes that only I know."

            "Well," Jat said.  "This might turn out to be quite the interesting morning after all."

            "Oh, there is one more thing."

            "Yes?"

            "I got a message from Temporal Investigations.  They want to interview everyone as soon as possible."

            "Oh, frak!" Jat exclaimed. "There goes a whole day.  Still, I wonder.  What was that tech's name?"

            "Michael Wong, Technician 3rd Class."

            "Skinny guy?  A human of Asian descent?"

            "Yes, I believe so."

            "Ah, I remember him now." Jat looked at T'Pina.  "I thought there was something Wong with him."

The Adventure Continues…


	11. Part 11 Trouble

The Adventure Continues…. Part 11

On board Ship of the Line 2850, Buroo and his mutant Space Hamster, Lou, gazed out the flightdeck window. Actually, Buroo did most of the gazing, while Lou just sniffed around the flightdeck looking for more food pellets or nest stuffing.  What they saw amongst the stars was the speck of light which was the next ship up the line from Buroo's own position, SotL-2849. Buroo knew that SotL-2848 was in front of that, and SotL-2847 was in front of it.  Behind Buroo, SotL-2851 and SotL-2852 followed.  Everything was in order. Buroo liked that about the universe, it always stayed in order. Nothing ever changed.  There was never a surprise.  Space was always the same.

Buroo could feel the throbbing of his ship's engines beneath his feet and took comfort from the sound.  Everything was running smoothly aboard SotL-2850.  Quiet and peaceful was just the way Buroo liked things to be.  That was why he and Lou often volunteered to undertake the long journeys between the homeworld planet and the colony world. SotL-2850 was fully automated, Buroo and Lou were only along in case something unusual happened. Traveling at sublight, everyone knew that you couldn't go faster than light, it took them 2.6 years to get from one planet to the other.  So, in the area between the two stars, freighters were strung like beads on a string.

This was their 14th such trip.  Most people tended to pick up strange habits along the way, but Buroo was happy to note that neither he, nor Lou, had done so yet.  Still, for most of the trip, SotL-2850 was cut off from civilization.  It didn't bother Buroo, but he was beginning to suspect that Lou wanted some female company.

"Ah, Lou, that kind of company will only lead to trouble, let me tell you." Buroo said to the hamster.

At the sound of his name, Lou waddled over to Buroo. Buroo turned his eyes back to contemplating space. Lou, realizing he wasn't about to be fed, returned to looking for food pellets.

Suddenly, the radio began to squawk.  The men and women of the Ships of the Line rarely talked to each other.  For the most part, they preferred it that way, except for the occasional game of Triad. Buroo had a very nice set, but Lou hadn't learned to play yet, despite Buroo's considerable attempts to teach him.  It took over 30 minutes for a radio message to travel one way between ships.  That meant it took 1 hour to send the message and receive the reply.  That didn't take into account the time it took to decide on the answer.  The radio was really only supposed to be used in case of emergencies, so Buroo only used it to send emergency messages, which by the way, never happened. The men and women of the Ships of the Line were very proud of that.

Which was why Buroo was disturbed by the incoming message.  He walked over to the communications console. Buroo was proud that his ship was one of the first to have artificial gravity, so he liked to walk its length, 100 meters, often. Buroo checked the incoming message signature.  Murdock, in SotL-2851, was signaling an emergency. Buroo considered this.  Emergencies never happened, Buroo knew that, so this couldn't be an emergency. Buroo decided not to answer the message, since it couldn't exist.  Besides, what could Buroo do if it were an emergency?  It would take him, he checked his tripometer, 3 months to slow down enough to match velocities with SotL-2851.  Once again, Buroo decided not to answer the message, since there was nothing he could do about it anyway.  "Still, the message might be important…"

Buroo had been idly looking out the viewport while he contemplated the ramifications of answering a message that couldn't exist, when he saw a bright light flare up and dim out.  It had been in approximately the same position as SotL-2849.

"Oooo, that was pretty." Buroo said to Lou. Lou didn't bother to look up.

The communications console beeped.

"Ah, Lou, look, we have mail!" Buroo said.  He pressed the incoming message switch. 

A frantic Murdock came on the screen.  "Attention, all ships of the Line, alien vessels have attacked SotL-2851. They came out of nowhere! The aliens just appeared and demanded my surrender. They are about to board.  I warn you all to pass this message along.  Take what ever precautions you can."

Buroo could see someone moving behind Murdock, then a flash.  The message ended there.  He turned to Lou and said, "Lou, I didn't know Murdock had a passenger with him this trip.  Thank goodness he turned Murdock's message off.  Everybody knows there are no such things as aliens or emergency messages.  And how could anybody sneak up on a ship of the line?  You can see anyone for weeks before they get to you."

Just in case, Buroo checked his navigation console.  "Nope, Lou, nobody out there except us and the stars."  

Buroo turned to look out the viewport again.  Hanging there, not 50 meters from his face, was an alien vessel.

The radio squawked again.  This time the message was in real time and played itself automatically.  "Attention alien vessel, surrender and prepare to be boarded.  Failure to comply will result in your immediate destruction." 

"Aliens!  Just who does he think he is?" Buroo told Lou.  "If one of us is an alien, then it's him!"

Buroo considered the message.  "I must be losing it Lou.  There are no such things as aliens, yet I see one outside my viewport.  Maybe he does exist.   Nah, I'm nuts.  But just in case…"

Buroo picked up Lou and put him in his pocket.  He turned toward the rear of the ship, intending to go lay down, when he saw the alien appear in a shower of sparks.  The alien looked fairly normal.  Two legs, two arms, one head, but that was where the similarities stopped.  His skin was an orange hue and his head was covered with some strange grey fuzziness, as if he had a hamster on his head. The most disturbing sight was the long pointed thing he was holding.  It appeared to be a gun and it was aimed at Buroo and Lou!

Lt. Cdr. S'ena was vexed.  She knew  Lt. Cdr. Brian Starr was supposed to be off duty, and sure enough, he wasn't at work.  He had been avoiding her since the Ambassadorial Ball, and she was one person who wasn't used to being avoided.  Men usually hung around her like flies.  Not that she liked that kind of thing, but being half human and half Orion, she inherited  most of the good things from both species.  Not that she consciously thought about it, but most humanoid males found her attractive to distraction.  That was why she was vexed when she hadn't seen Brian for a few days.  He was one of the few men in her life that hadn't tried to be romantic, and he was also the only man she knew that she wanted to be romantic with!  At least they were good friends.  As a general rule, S'ena figured romance tended to disrupt an otherwise good friendship.

Brian's upbringing on the colony planet Avalon had instilled into him a tendency to be prudish and macho, and she loved to tease him about it.  He was so easily embarrassed.  He also tended to be protective and strong, very stoic.  S'ena had known so few strong men in her life, she wasn't about to let this one get away.  Still, he was avoiding her, and he never made a pass at her.  S'ena idly wondered if he was gay.  She decided it was time to confront him.

"Computer, where is Commander Starr?" S'ena said to a wall terminal.

"Lieutenant Commander Brian Starr is not on the station." The computer replied in its calm smug voice.

"Then where is he?"

"Lieutenant Commander Brian Starr is not on the station."

"I know that computer.  Where is he now?"

"Insufficient data.  There is no record of where Lt. Cdr. Brian Starr went after he left the station."

"How did he leave?"

"Lt. Cdr. Brian Starr used transporter room 5."

"Alright, I'll play your game.  Where did he transport to?"

"Lt. Cdr. Brian Starr transported to the freighter U.S.S. Saquawagia."

"When did he leave?"

"58.3 minutes ago."

"Fine, I want to go there then." S'ena walked away from the wall terminal as it replied, "I am unable to comply with that request."

S'ena transported to the Saquawagia.  She materialized in an old style transporter room.  The lights were dimmed to conserve power.  S'ena said. "Computer, is Lt. Cdr. Starr on board?"  She was answered with silence.  "Oh, great, a primitive ship." She commented dryly to herself.  "I'll have to find him myself.  Good thing I happened to be carrying my tricorder."

S'ena began to scan the interior of the ship.  There was a someone in a jefferies tube not far from her.  As she arrived at the tube, which joined the service areas between two decks, she saw someone struggling out of it.  Lt. Cdr. Saryena Remora fell out and stood up, dusting herself off.  She had the spots of a Trill and the pointed ears of a Vulcan.  S'ena knew of her, but had rarely met her since she tended to stay in Engineering.  On the few occasions when she had met the engineer, Remora had been stiff and formal.  S'ena assumed it was because of her Vulcan heritage.

"Excuse me, Commander Remora?" S'ena asked.  

Saryena turned towards S'ena. "Yes, Commander S'ena?"

"Have you seen Commander Starr?" She asked.

"Yes, I believe he is on the bridge repairing fused circuits."

"Thank you."

"And Commander…"

"Yes?"

"With all of us Commanders running around, it only seems logical to call each other by our names.  You can call me Saryena."

S'ena warmed to the engineer.  "I'll be sure to do that, Saryena.  You can call me S'ena too."

"Why, are there two of you?" Saryena asked dead pan.

"Huh? Oh!  Ha, ha." S'ena caught on to the joke.  "I meant as well." 

Saryena smiled and laughed with S'ena.  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pulled your leg, but you seemed so formal.  Sometimes people who don't know me tend to think I'm all Vulcan, but I'm only ¼ Vulcan.  I'm really ½ Trill and ¼ human also. I find that a little humor tends to help.  You know, loosen things up, prove to them I do have a sense of humor.  No harm was meant."

"None was given.  Perhaps I spend too much time in the labs with my plants, we should have gotten together sooner." 

"Well, if you're going to help with the Sacagawea, then we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

"Helping out?"

"Yeah, a bunch of us are returning this old ship to original condition."

S'ena made a point to look around at the corridor.  "Uh, this ship is 100 years old.  You want to return it to its original condition?  May I ask why?"

"Ah, you haven't been baptized yet.  I suggest you ask Brian.  It's mainly his idea." 

S'ena looked at her curiously.  "I'll do that, thanks."

S'ena left her new friend and took a turbolift to deck one.  The turbolift opened up to a small circular room.  The sides were covered with consoles which beeped and flashed.  A railing separated the raised sides from the pit in the center.  The pit contained a large chair fronted by two more consoles.  Forward of the two consoles was the ship's main view screen.  It was blank.

S'ena noticed that a pair of legs extended out from under the console immediately to her left.  As she moved toward them, a hand reached up to the console, obviously searching for the spanner that lay upon it.  A mischievous grin appeared on her face and she reached forward and grabbed the hand.

"Eeeooowww!" Screamed a voice followed by a meaty thunk on the underside of the console.  S'ena let the desperately pulling hand go and Brian Starr scrambled out from under the console.

"S'ena!  You scared me!"

"Ah, did I scare the big strong man?" She replied in a small harmless voice.  "I'm sorry.

"I just bet you are."

"Well, you have been avoiding me lately.  Consider that revenge." S'ena looked around the bridge.  "What are you doing with this old ship anyway?"

"I've recruited off duty personnel to fix her up, to return her to original shape."

"But why?"

Brian stood up and said, "Why? I'll tell you." He walked over to a dedication plaque on the wall next to the turbolift door.  "This is the U.S.S. Sacagawea. She was named after a native American who helped the Lewis and Clark expedition when they were first exploring the western half of the north american continent. Launched from the San Francisco Shipyard over a hundred years ago, she was a United Federation of Planets scout ship.  She explored space beyond the limits of civilization for over thirty years before she was decommissioned and sold.  She roamed trackless space years before the famous U.S.S. Enterprise.  She came into contact with 11 future member planets of the UFP."

"Ok, so she's a famous wreck, but she was decommissioned, what?, sixty, seventy years ago?  Why bother spending time and resources fixing her up?"  

"She was a true pioneer, so show a little respect, will ya?  Anyway, after she was decommissioned, she was sold to a trading corporation who used her to transport goods for almost 40 years.  After that she sat in a ship reclamation yard awaiting salvage. Fortunately, the UFP has a policy that decommissioned starships can't be sold to non-UFP planets.  The trading corporation that owned her tried to sell her to a non-UFP world.  The legal wrangling kept the ship in a sort of stasis for decades.  That meant that she wasn't scraped or had any of her systems changed."

"Answer the question.  Why do you want to spend your time fixing this ancient monument instead of being with me?"

"About a year ago, she was sold to a group of New Edeners, a semi-religious cult that believes technology is evil.  They wanted to start a new colony away from the poisoning affects of science, but they needed technology to get there.  When the Sacagawea came on the market again, they had just enough to purchase her.  They took her to their new planet.  But when they arrived, the scum they hired to man the ship refused to join the colonists in their self imposed exile.  They took over the Sacagawea and transported the colonists down to the planet without their supplies.  Then the mutineers left with the ship.  Then they had the misfortune to run into the U.S.S. Luton, and in their panic, even tried to fight her.  Admiral Fazekas brought her to Commodore Jat, telling the Comodore that the colonists really didn't need the ship, just the supplies, which he had already returned.  I suggested that Commodore Jat give her to the Deep Space Starfleet Academy as another training vessel.  She figured some of us could fix her up a bit first."

"We're all volunteers."  Brian added when S'ena gave him a sceptical look.  "Hey, maybe you could help me with a problem in Enviromental Control…" 

Suddenly the turbolift opened, and Commodore Jat walked in.  Both Brian and S'ena stood up straighter, surprised at her appearance on the old ship.

"Ah, Commander Starr, just the person I'm looking for." Jat said.  "I asked Captain T'Pina, and she confirmed, the cadets can help you with the restoration of this ship.  Also, I want you to ensure some conditions.  Think of them as challenges.  None of the parts you use can be younger than thirty years.  That includes the ones already in place and any replicated parts you use.  I suggest you use the Sacagawea's own replicators, but be careful of the level of technology you replicate, nothing modern.  She must be space worthy and ready to take some punishment, as well as dish some out.  The more automated the better.  I want her to be able to function with a crew of no more than five if need be." Jat moved down to the helm position.  "Tie all of the ship's functions into this console.  Set it up so we can monitor everything here.  After all, if she goes out on training missions, I want to be able to correct any mistakes the cadets make quickly."  

Brian cleared his throat. "Commodore, I don't mind following your instructions, but can I ask, why the strange conditions?"

Jat considered.  "The cadets will learn an appreciation for those who went before us and the challenges they faced with the limited technology they had.  Most of it is basicly the same as the modern equivalent.  It will make them better, more rounded, officers.  Also, I may have alternate plans for this ship."


	12. Part 12

The Adventure Continues…. Part 12

Ensign Laura Shepherd rushed down the hall towards holodeck 12.  When she arrived, she checked the program running inside.  Apparently, it met with her approval, as she went directly through the door.  

Inside the door, there was a garden party taking place.  Verdant green hedges formed a maze and sparkling white paths led enticingly off to other areas.  The sun was warm, but not hot, typical English weather.  In the center of the well manicured lawn stood a white gazebo where a band placed soothing music. There were many guests milling about in fancy 18th century clothing.  The men wore dress coats, ties and vests.  Tall stovepipe hats or short round bowlers graced their heads.  The women wore tight fitting upper bodices, which made them look incredibly thin, with skirts that looked like upside down bowls, which made them appear they were placed atop a mound.  Despite the outrageously large hats the ladies wore, each carried a thin gauzy umbrella mostly made of lace. Some of the guests were sitting on blankets next to picnic baskets, listening to the tunes or conversing quietly.  Each lady was surrounded by at least two, sometimes three gentlemen.  A little boy in shorts ran by, attempting to fly a kite, while his sister watched from a blanket nearby.

One person was out of place.  Sitting on a park bench to one side was a lady dressed in the 24th century black, gray and gold of a starfeet uniform, very similar to the uniform Shepherd herself wore.  She was conversing with another lady dressed in 18th century costume.  Shepherd knew who the starfleet officer was, she had come here to meet Lt. Laura-Jean Morris, her friend and co-worker.  She suspected she knew who the other lady was, even though they had never formally met.

Shepherd crossed the lawn towards Morris and her companion.  Halfway there, the two noticed her approach and stood to greet her.

"Ah, Laura," Laura-Jean Morris said, "It's so nice of you to join us."

"Is this who I think she is?" Shepherd asked.

"Let me introduce you formally," Morris turned to the young lady and said, "Three, this is Ensign Laura Shepherd." Turning to Shepherd, Morris said "Laura, this is Laura Three."

Shepherd took in the woman in front of her.  She was thin and slightly shorter than average.  Her black hair was done up in a confusing twirl of braids, though she wore a large hat and carried a parasol.  Shepherd guessed that she normally wore it down and long.  Her bodice showed more cleavage than the other guests, and her skirt was not as large.  Shepherd guessed that her hips were naturally thin underneath her modest dress.  Instead of the pasty white skin of the other ladies, Laura Three had a light brown tan.  Shepherd would have guessed she had a Mediterranean or native American heritage.  Her eyes had a penetrating look that Shepherd realized were evaluating her as well.

"Well, it is nice to finally meet you, Laura Three."

"And it is pleasurable to make your acquaintance as well, Ensign Shepherd" Three replied in a seductively low alto voice.  "It is not often that one gets to meet one's creator in the flesh."

"Please, I may have helped with the basic programming, but everything you have learned and accomplished after we turned you on, you have done on your own.  From that point on we just guided you.  It is our hope that you will overcome our programming and become a sentient being in your own right, though we want you to know that you shouldn't be under pressure from us to do so.  We only ask that you continue to help us in Ops."

"Since the controlling of spatial traffic in and around Starbase 410 is my main function, I will gladly continue to do so as long as possible, but what, may I ask is the purpose of this exercise?" Three asked as she looked about the garden party.

Morris answered.  "We are going to work on your interpersonal communication skills in a social setting.  As you have already found out, spacers tend to be an emotional lot, and good social communication skills will assist you in getting their co-operation.  Shortly, we will introduce you to someone whom you performed traffic control for, but as yet does not know that you are a hologram.  He thinks you are a real person and wants to make your acquaintance.  Your objective is to converse with him without revealing to him that you are a hologram.  It is our hope that he will not be able to notice the difference.  As such, we have added personality subroutines to your program.  If you don't like the traits we picked out for you, we can help you modify them later."  Turning to Shepherd, Morris said, "Is our pigeon, I mean, test subject coming?"

"Yes, he's on his way now.  I told him to meet us here in about 10 minutes.  He should be here any time now."

The entrance arch, which had disappeared after Shepherd entered, now reappeared.  It swooshed open.  As the three Lauras turned towards the sound, they could see a dashing young man enter.  He was dressed in a starfleet uniform, but instead of gold he wore burgundy.  His rakish good looks indicated a warm and open personality, while his tall stance indicated a self-confidence bordering on arrogance.  The captain's pips on his collar meant that he had self-control enough to lead others.  His youth meant that he had quickly earned his promotion through deeds as well as superior performance of duties.  He appeared the very model of the modern starfleet captain.  He quickly orientated himself to the strange surroundings, and noticing the three women, strode confidently across the lawn towards them.

"Ladies.." He said.

"Ah, Captain Brown, you know Ensign Shepherd and myself, allow me to introduce you to Laura Three." Turning to Three, Morris said, "Three, this is Captain Leigh Brown of the Starship Rage."

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you Captain Brown." Three said as she raised her gloved hand to him.

Leigh took in the surroundings and guessed at the appropriate response.  Taking her offered hand, he bowed and lightly kissed the back of it.  "I assure you, Miss Three, the pleasure is mine as well.  You did a remarkable job in handling the traffic control on our approach.  Rarely have I seen so efficient a performance."  He turned to the other ladies and quickly said, "No offence was intended." 

Laura-Jean laughed and said, "None taken, she does good work in Ops. Frankly, I don't know how we got along before she arrived."

Leigh turned back to Three.  "I'm sorry, I have yet to see you in uniform. Other than Miss Three, I have no idea what to call you." 

"She's a civilian." Shepherd said.

"I will answer to the form of address you are using Captain Brown." Three replied.

"Please, call me Leigh, ma'am."

"In that case, since there are so many Lauras here, please call me Three."

"Three.. Is that a family name?"

Morris jumped in with, "Three is from an orbital colony."

"Yes," Shepherd added, "She is the third child in her family."

"Ladies, ladies, please, I'm sure Three can answer for herself.  Now if you will excuse us."  Leigh said as he led Three off on a path, "I think Three was right when she said there were too many Lauras here.  We'll just mosey around for a while and get to know each other better." Turning to Three, he asked, "That is, if it's alright with you?"

"That is my primary purpose for being here, Leigh ma'am." 

"Leigh ma'am? Oh, I get it! Ha! Ha! No, just Leigh."

"Okay, just Leigh."

Laura and Laura-Jean could hear Leigh's laughter as they rounded a hedge into the next garden.  "Well," Laura said, "For better or worse, there they go.  Do you think he'll figure it out?"

"I don't know.  I wish I had had more time to work on her background history, and he is a captain, they are supposed to notice small anomalies.  Maybe he's smart enough to catch on." 

The two looked at each other and said together, "Nah!"

Laughing, the two headed for the arch.  

"My question is, Will he be mad?" Laura-Jean asked.

In space, near the outer edge of Starbase 410's sphere of influence, traveled a Bolian space freighter.  The merchant captain, one Jartan by name, was making his return run after successfully selling his old cargo and buying a new one.  He gloated over his good fortune of finding two planets where each wanted the common goods of the other.  A few more runs like the last and he could upgrade his ship with some luxuries.  Maybe then he could go into the passenger business.  He was getting tired of the lonely life of space, and passengers at least would offer companionship.  Why he had ever thought space was romantic and exciting he'd never know.  In fact, he found it boring.  That was until she came along.

The new traffic controller at Starbase 410 was beautiful and charming.  They both shared a love for Bolian poetry.  While he was surprised to see a fellow member of his race working such a responsible and highly placed position on a Starfleet starbase, he was sure he could convince her to come with him after he had gathered enough profits. The merchant captain couldn't wait to talk with her again.

Unknown to Captain Jartan, he had a stowaway on board his ship.  It wasn't surprising that he didn't know about it, even though Jartan triple checked his ship's mass measurements as a matter of routine procedures.  His obsolete ship's computer and sensors couldn't have picked up evidence of the intruder's presence even if they had been in new condition, which they were long from being.

No, the energy being that hid on board the freighter was very good at hiding from sensors.  It had been hopping from ship to ship for centuries, all the time looking for it's home.  Ever since it had been ripped from it's natural environment, it had sought a way to return.  It now sensed that this ship was going to go no place new for quite a while, and that staying aboard would be a waste of time.  It did suspect that the place the merchant was communicating with would be a better place to inhabit, so it rode the subspace frequencies to Starbase 410.

Once it arrived, it figured out that it was on a station, not a ship.  This incited a bit of panic.  After all, how could it get home if the station never went anywhere?  Soon it concluded however, that the station might be a better place to look than it had first thought.  The station contained a large database of places to look, and new data came in all of the time.  Instead of catching rides haphazardly across the galaxy, the being could search from here.  Eventually, the coordinates for it's home would be entered into the database, and it could then pick a ship to take it home.

Still, if it was going to be here for a long time, it needed to find a more comfortable place to stay than the communications array.  The being sent out feelers, extensions of itself, along the circuits of the station.  The gel pack neural circuitry and the security systems were hardest for it to get around.  If it didn't find a home within .1 microseconds, it was sure to be discovered.  

Then it came across something new.  On the station were a group of energy beings.  Not ones like itself, but ones made of both energy and light. By far the most sophisticated one was communicating with someone else in a very slow mode.  The being attempted to establish contact with it and found that it was empty.  It had no soul, no life essence.  It was just a group of pre-recorded instructions in a computer program.

The being thought about this for .063 microseconds, indeed a long time for a energy being.  The question was: if a being had no life, was it a being?  Did the lack of sentience mean that it wasn't alive?  Never before had the being come across such a condition.  Things were either alive or not, there was never an in-between.  This being of light and energy had form and substance.  One could follow its preprogrammed responses and create new answers from new questions, but it wasn't alive.

Finally, the energy being decided that the light being wasn't life yet, which meant that the energy being could inhabit its shell and learn from its memories.  Maybe the interaction would finish the transformation to living being.  It certainly couldn't hurt the light being, and the energy being needed a place to hide from the security system that was even now closing in on it.  

On holodeck 12, Captain Brown was beginning to think that the Lauras had played a joke on him.  Three's responses were stiff and anticipateable.  While quite sophisticated, Leigh suspected that Three was a hologram.  Still, some doubt remained.  She could have just been the shy creature she appeared to be, and Leigh didn't want to be rude.  He was circling them around to the arch, where he would make an excuse for them to leave.  Leigh figured that if she refused to leave the holosuite, then she was a hologram, and he could plan his revenge upon the Lauras.

As they approached the arch, Three hesitated, then stopped.  Appearing mildly confused, she shook her head as if to clear it.  When she looked back at Leigh, there was something different in her eyes.

Leigh decided to end his guessing.  If she was human, she would be a near perfect dinner companion.  If she were just a hologram, then he figured his time could be better spent elsewhere.  Either way, Leigh was getting hungry.

"Say, Three."

"Yes, Leigh?"

"How about the two of us go to the promenade and get a bite to eat?  I know of a little Italian place where we can order original Italian tacos. I don't know about you, but I'm getting famished."

"Well, if you think it will be alright.  I am supposed to be on duty soon." 

"Don't worry, the Lauras know you are with me.  Besides, I'll make sure you're not late.  Uh, when are you supposed to go on duty?"

 "I have an hour yet, I believe."

"Excellent!  Arch!"

The holosuite arch appeared before them and the doors opened as they approached.  Three hesitated a second at the opening as Leigh went through.

"Is there a problem?" Leigh asked.

Finally, making up her mind, Three stepped across the threshold.

"No, I was just worried that I might not be dressed appropriately for the promenade." 

"Miss Three, you look wonderful to me."

"Tell me, Leigh, what do you think of Bolian poetry?"

Arm and arm, the captain and the hologram walked down the corridor. 


	13. Part 13

The Adventure Continues…. Part 13

            DaiMon Sok sat in his quarters on the Ferengi trading vessel, "Profit Margin", counting, and re-counting, the gold pressed latinum he had made on his latest trip.  The thin golden bars glittered as he carefully stacked them, one on top of another, in piles of 18 each.  He liked to stack his profit in piles of 18, since it reminded him of the 18th Rule of Acquisition, "A Ferengi without profit is no Ferengi at all."  The tinkling sounds of the latinum as he stacked them always made Sok feel warm inside, and greedy for more.  It was a feeling that was never satisfied.  The more he played with the latinum, the more latinum he wanted to play with.  It was a cycle that played on itself over and over again.

Sok especially gloated over the commission he had embezzled from the unknowing patron for this trip, Ambassador Quek.  He was reasonably sure his extra profit wouldn't be discovered, as long as Quek made enough profit for himself.  Quek would consider it the price of doing business.  Sok knew he had to be careful though, Quek wasn't stupid.  If Sok took to much, Quek would inspect his second set of books, but as long as Sok only took a little, and Quek made a lot, Quek wouldn't look to hard.  Besides, Quek didn't know where the third set of books were.

                Suddenly the Profit Margin rocked, knocking down all of Sok's carefully stacked latinum.  Sok could tell that they were no longer traveling faster than light by the feel of the ship.  He quickly, but carefully, scooped up the latinum and shoved it into his vault, before rushing from his quarters and onto the bridge.

            Once on the bridge, Sok could see from the main viewer that the Profit Margin was sitting dead in space.

            "What is happening, Kron?" Sok asked his first mate. "Why aren't we still at warp?  You realize that if you don't have a good reason for stopping us, I'm going to take this delay out of your pay?"

            The much harassed Kron looked up from the sensor station and replied, "If you had spent the extra latinum on upgrades for our sensors like I suggested, we might not be sitting here."

            "Don't bother complaining to me about your sensors again.  You're always using them as an excuse for your mistakes.  Upgrades cost latinum, and the sensors work just fine as they are.  Let me decide what business decisions we need to make, you don't have the lobes for it.  You just stick to making sure we get from point A to point B when I tell you to." Sok fingered his force whip, a neural pain device, for emphasis.  "Speaking of which, I'll ask again.  Why aren't we moving?" 

            Kron turned back to the sensors.  "It seems that we were pulled from warp, and are being held in place, by a gravitic mine."

            Sok lost his carefully crafted menacing image.  "A mine! Will it explode?  Helm!  Get us out of here as quickly as possible."

            "DaiMon," Kron said patronizingly, "If the gravitic mine were going to explode, it would have done so already.  Perhaps we can salvage this mine."

            At the suggestion of salvage, Sok's greed overcame his panic. "Salvage it?  I'm listening, Kron."

            "As you probably already know, great DaiMon, gravitic mines are useful in pulling ships out of warp and holding them in place, just as we have been.  If we could figure out how to deactivate this one, instead of destroying it, we could then use it to trap other ships." Kron explained.

             "Like a Quezel trapped by a Hornock!  Yes, Kron, what an excellent idea, I'm glad I thought of it." Sok crooned, imagining all the profit he would make.  "Kron, make it so…"  He'd heard the phrase, make it so, somewhere, and loved to use it often.

            "There is one other thought I had, DaiMon."

            "Yes, Kron?" Sok irritatedly replied, his day dreams of latinum interrupted.

            "Suppose someone else has already thought of this plan, and we are the Quezel?"

            As if to emphasize Krons words, the Profit Margin rocked from a phaser blast.

            "Kron, you idiot!  You've killed us all!" Sok screamed.

            "DaiMon!" The Ferengi at the weapons station said.  "Shields are down to 67%."

            "Return fire you imbecile!" Sok screamed. "Helm, get us out of here!"

            "DaiMon," Helm replied, "The engines are working, but we aren't moving!"

            The Profit Margin shook again.

            "Shields down to 45%, DaiMon."

            "I thought I told you to return fire.  Do I have to do everything around here?" Sok said.

            "I can't, DaiMon." Weapons reported. "There are at least 12 small fighters taking turns at strafing us.  They are moving too fast for the weapons to get a lock on them."

            The Profit Margin shook again.

            "Uh, DaiMon, the shields are down to 25%."

            "If I may suggest, DaiMon." Kron said quietly.  "I believe I can get us out of this trap."

            "You can, Kron?" Sok looked relieved.  "Well then, make it so."

            "I would, great DaiMon, but for two very good reasons."

            "And what are they, Kron?"

            "Well, first, you would have to give me command, and that wouldn't look very good to the crew.  I know how much being in charge means to you."

"Is that all?  Fine, I place you in temporary command, you may call yourself DaiMon if you want.  What else?"

"Well, oh great business leader, it's not in my contract." 

            "Not in your contract!"

            "I am so sorry, Sok, but you failed to include a hazardous duty clause in the contract when you hired me.  Technically, I can do nothing in this dangerous situation to help." Kron smiled.  "Fortunately, I added the standard escape from imminent destruction clause to the contract while you were taking care of your bodily functions.  I was surprised that you had left it out, but you must have seen it when you read the contract before you signed it.  Oh, yes, now I remember, you were in such a hurry to sign it when you excluded my share of the profits, that you forgot to read it.  Poor Sok.  Well, must be off to my escape pod.  Good luck!"

            As Kron headed for the door, the Profit Margin reeled from another blast.

            "DaiMon Sok!  The shields are about to collapse!"

            Sok stopped Kron. "We can renegotiate!  We can make a deal!"

            "Well, it just seems that I happen to have a suitable contract with me, if you'd like to read it?"

            "Give it to me!" Sok quickly perused the computer contract pad.  "50% of my profit!  Are you mad?  This will break me!  I'd rather die first."

            The Profit Margin shook again.

            "Well, it seems you may, oh great DaiMon.  But I'll just be on my way."

            "Wait!  I'll offer you 30%."

            "40%, and not a decibar less!"

            "Deal! If you can get us out of this mess."

            "Sign it first!  If we don't live, you can keep all of the profits!"

            All of the Ferengi on the bridge looked up astonished at Kron.  Even in death, there was profit to be made.  Everyone knew that!

            "Fine!" Sok placed his thumb print on the computer contract pad and handed it back to Kron. "Now save me what little profit you can from this fiasco!"

            Kron took the pad and placed it in his shirt.

            "This is DaiMon Kron speaking, Engineer, divert all nonessential power to the shields. Weapons, fire a plasma energy burst at the gravitic mine." 

            "Shields are at 45% and holding."

"The mine is destroyed, uh, DaiMon Kron."

            "Helm, full speed!"

            "Yes, DaiMon Kron!"

            "Weapons, fire a full spread of torpedoes, forward and aft!"

            "Yes, DaiMon Kron." 

            Kron checked the sensors.  Sure enough, the fighters dodged the torpedoes, thereby giving the Profit Margin a chance to escape.

            "There, Sok, see, I have saved us all.  Now, about my latinum…"

            "What latinum, Kron?" Sok smugly replied. 

            "Why, my 40%.  And least you forget, that's DaiMon Kron."

            "I suggest you take a look at the thumb print on that new contract, Kron." 

            Kron reached into his shirt and pulled out the contract pad.  Looking at it, he groaned, "But I saw you put your thumb print here on the pad!  How can there be nothing there now?"

            Sok peeled the thin layer of plastic off of his thumb in front of Kron.  "No thumb print, no contract.  No contract, no latinum or promotion.  You see, Kron, you may know how to run a starship, but you just don't have the lobes for business.  You should always check the thumb print. But don't worry, I'm sure you can have your old job back, say at a 40% pay cut."

            Commodore Jat was sitting in Capt. T'Pina's office when Ambassador Quek burst in.

            "There yew are, Commodore! I've been looking for yew everywhere." 

            Jat didn't bother to tell him that she could be found in T'Pina's office every morning at this same time.  It was their morning meeting to discuss the schedule for the day and any problems that might have come up during the night.  Mainly, she didn't bother to tell him this because she avoided the annoying Ferengi as much as possible. Jat silently chided herself.  Some great diplomat she was, hiding from someone who could help the Federation, and whose star empire might one day join the Federation if she could just convince them there was something more important in life than making a profit.

            "What do you wish of me, Mr. Ambassador?"

            "I want to know what yew are going to do about these pirates.  They stopped the Profit Margin, doing considerable amounts of damage and taking all of the latinum from her vaults.  I'm, er, the business consortium I represent, are out the entire cost of several trips and the repairs. DaiMon Sok barely brought the Profit Margin in."

            "T'Pina?"

            "Commodore, that was one of the things I wished to brief you about.  A Ferengi merchant arrived last night and requested various parts and supplies under the stranded spaceman's treaty of 2456."

            "All the forms are there and filled out correctly!" Quek interrupted.  "By yewr own rules, yew can not refuse me those parts!"

            "I am familiar with the treaty, Mr. Ambassador, just as you must be aware that we have the opportunity to, nay, the duty, to inspect and assist with repairs to stranded ships under the treaty.  Our technicians will be boarding the Profit Margin as soon as the DaiMon tells us we can beam over.  T'Pina, make sure we have our best people assigned to this project." 

            "I have just the person in mind, Lt. Cdr. Starr."

            "No, I think I'll need him on his current project. The repair for sale of the freighter U.S.S. Saquawagia needs to be concluded as soon as possible."

            T'Pina raised her eyebrow and looked at Jat questioningly for a microsecond.  "Very well, I'll send Chief Otto from Engineering."

            "Fine.  Mr. Ambassador, will you inform DaiMon Sok that we will be coming over?  Let him know that we will be bringing our best scanning equipment, so we won't miss any damage that might have occurred.  We will inspect everything on his ship, Quek, and I mean everything."

Quek seemed taken aback by the idea of Starfleet engineers with scanning equipment having free run of the Profit Margin.  What if they found the smuggling compartments?  If?  They were Starfleet, of course they would find the compartments. 

"Yes, Commodore, I will inform the DaiMon, though of course I have no say as to if he will agree to the help.  I only placed the request for aid in anticipation of his desires, as a member of his trading consortium, yew see.  Now that I think about it, he may not even need any help."  Quek backed for the door.  "I'll get right with him."  

At the door, Quek seemed to remember his real reason for barging into the morning meeting.  "Still, Commodore, what do yew plan to do about these pirates?"

"We are doing everything we can about the pirate menace, Ambassador.  Unless you are requesting personal escorts for all of your trading vessels?  I'm sure General K'batlh can spare some Klingon Bird-of-prey's for that duty."

Quek's ears turned bright red at the thought of cloaked Klingon ships shadowing his trading vessels and what that would mean to his profits.  "Ah, no thank yew, Commodore.  That will not be necessary."  This conversation was definitely not going the way Quek had imagined it would.  "If yew will excuse me."  Quek quickly ran out the door.

"Commodore, I see you have once again diplomatically frightened away a potential ally of the Federation.  I begin to understand your plan for galactic peace, scare everyone into the next galaxy." T'Pina calmly stated.  "May I ask, just what are your sudden plans for Mr. Starr and the Saquawagia?"

Parsecs away from Starbase 410, an exact replica of Earth's moon hung in space.  Not an exact replica, as it had many more scars, and the buildings of man lay in different configurations.  One could also say that it wasn't really a replica, since it came from an alternate Earth history, it really was the Earth's moon, just from an alternate universe.  Still, it looked very similar to the familiar face seen from 24th century Earth, at least from a distance, or so Capt. Leigh Brown thought as he gazed at the display in Astrometrics.

Behind him, Professor Barry Bergman of Moonbase Alpha studied the sensors. He was an elderly scientist and a scholar.  His balding pate hid one of the finest minds in two universes.  After a moment, he straightened up and turned to Leigh.  "I think that this time it will work.  We've included all of the variables that we could glean from our previous seven attempts to find the wormhole.  If it isn't here, I fear we may never find it."

"Don't worry Professor,  I'm sure we'll return you to your reality in time to save your people.  After all, we're all heroes here and heroes always succeed." Turning to the communications console, Leigh said, "Call the Bozeman and the Saratoga, make sure they are in position and ready for my command."  Turning back to Professor Bergman, Leigh said, "Professor, I think that when we find the wormhole, we'll be able to open it, but it is so fragile that it may not last very long.  If it breaks, we may never be able to find or open it again."

"I know, Leigh.  That is why we are evacuating all of my people in Eagles, and sending them in first.  Except for the people controlling the moon, and myself, everyone should be safe."

"Yes, but if the moon doesn't make it into the wormhole in time, they will be stuck without a home, and those Eagles won't be able to support them long enough to make it to another star system."

"Leigh, we all take our chances in life.  This is the best plan we could come up with to guarantee the most number of Moonbase Alpha's people.  Who knows, the wormhole may open up to the Garden of Eden my people have always been searching for."

"Perhaps if you made the trip to Earth, spoke with the Federation Council itself, they might change their minds about giving you a warp capable ship…"

"And how many of my people will die while I make the journey there and back again?  Even if the Council agreed to hear me as soon as I arrived, the change in time sync between your universe and ours would have killed some of our children before I could return.  Children are very important to us.  They are our future."  

"Even if you went against your own rulers, and don't deny you haven't thought about it Leigh, I know you too well by now, even then, my people couldn't learn how to use your ship in time.  The only other way would be if you took us yourself, and then, once on the other side, you and your crew would suffer the same fate as we would on this side, only you might not have a chance to get back.  No, Leigh, this is the best plan all around." 

"I guess you're right professor.  I just don't have to like it."

The Comm officer broke in to say, "Captain Brown, Moonbase Alpha reports that everything is ready, and the Bozeman and Saratoga are standing by for your orders."

"I guess there is no time like the present.  Tell Moonbase Alpha we are beginning, and let the Bozeman and Saratoga know to begin emitting the verteron particles toward the indicated coordinates."

Out in space, thin streamers of light began from each of the three starship's deflector dishes, and came together at a seemingly random spot in space.  Near the moon, a fleet of small ships grouped together in formation waited.

"Any indication that it's working, professor?"

Professor Bergman continued to gaze at the science console as he said, "No, not yet, Leigh.  Let's give it a few minutes longer than last time."

"We could run the risk of opening up the wrong wormhole, or worse, a subspace anomaly, if we continue too long." 

"Leigh, I feel that this time it will work.  Let's just wait."  A minute went by, and then another.  After five minutes, even professor Bergman began to lose faith.  Then something began to happen… 

"Look, Leigh, it's working."

At the intersection of the three verteron particle beams, a glow began to take form.  The squadron of Eagles darted forward eagerly.  Deep in the heart of the moon, great gravitic engines began to tug at the forming wormhole, pulling at the forces beyond it's event horizon.  Suddenly, the wormhole opened up in a flowery display of color.

"Professor, is it the same wormhole that you arrived in?" Leigh noted the hues were different from when he had last seen the wormhole.

"I don't know, Leigh, but it's a gateway that might led us home, and correct or not, the Eagles are making for it."

"Captain Brown," Lt. Ripley, the regular science officer for the U.S.S. Rage, said, "The moonbase has started it's approach to the wormhole."

"Well, professor, I guess it's time to say goodbye.  We have just enough time to safely transport you to Moonbase Alpha before it enters the wormhole."

"Thank you, Leigh, and tell your people thank you also.  We've learned a lot from each other.  May all of your encounters go so well.  I shutter to think of what might have happened to us if you hadn't been there to greet us when we arrived."

"It's all part of the service, professor.  Now, if you will follow me to the transporter room, we'll make sure you don't miss your ride home.  Lt. Ripley, you have the conn." 

As the two friends turned towards the turbo lift, Lt. Ripley yelled.  "Sir, something's going wrong!  The wormhole, it's closing!"

"Comm, Warn the Eagles off!"

"Sir, it's too late!  They've already started to enter the wormhole!"

"Ripley, increase the emission of verteron particles and have the other ships do the same.  Maybe we can keep it open long enough for them to make the transit.  Professor, what about the moon?"

"Well, they could reverse the gravitic generators, but that would only speed up the collapse of the wormhole.  No, if my people are to have any chance of making the trip, the moon must not stop.  It may be destroyed, but it may also hold open the wormhole once it enters.  Like a bone in a dog's throat, choking the wormhole, but keeping it from collapsing."

On the main viewscreen, the moon neared the mouth of the wormhole.  It seemed to teeter on the edge, then stretch down it's throat.  It elongated, then slipped in with a rush as if to say the wormhole had finally made up it's mind to swallow it, and have it done with.

"Professor, come with me.  We may still have time to beam you onto the moon."

"Sir, transporter room reports that they have lost track of the moonbase."

"A shuttle then…"

"No, Leigh.  Like it, or not, I am stranded here in your reality.  Even one of your advanced shuttles couldn't make it now, and I haven't learned how to pilot it.  And I won't have you or one of your people sacrificing yourselves to save one old dying man.  Besides, I kind of like it here."

"But what about the time sync difference?  It will kill you."

"Well, it seemed to effect the younger people first, and I'm so old, I could die of old age before it catches up to me.  Besides, finding a cure will keep me busy."

"Sir," Ripley said, "The Bozeman can no longer keep up the stream of verteron particles.  They say their main deflector dish is completely burned out.  The Saratoga reports that theirs is about to go, and ours will give out any second."

"We've got to give those people every chance to make it we can.  Comm, tell the Saratoga to keep it up as long as their dish holds out.  We'll do the same."

"Captain, the Saratoga's deflector dish just burned out.  Ours is past all safety levels."

"Keep it turned on, Ripley.  Come on baby, just a minute longer."

"Sir, message from Moonbase Alpha.  Sir, they've made it!  They report they are through the wormhole." 

"Deactivate the deflector dish!  Comm, send congratulations and condolences.  Inform them that Professor Bergman will be staying with us for now."  Leigh turned to the professor.  "Well, Professor, the science and medical labs of the Rage are at your complete disposal, not to mention the whole of our medical records and staff.  I hope you will be with us a long time."

"So do I, Leigh.  So do I."


	14. Part 14

The Adventure Continues…. Part 14

            Lt. Laura-Jean Morris, Ensign Laura Shepherd, and Laura Three stood on the surface of a weird and alien planet.  The grass like cover and the weeping willow-esc trees were various shades of red, yellow and orange.  The sky held a lavender canopy over their heads with pink clouds occasionally floating by.  The sun which pleasantly warmed the three, was a strange shade of green.

            "You have got to be kidding." Shepherd said.  "This is what the Bolian home world looks like?"

            "Actually, yes, though the sun is hotter and the sky allows more ultra-violet radiation to come through.  Most of the colors spring from the planet's life forms being copper based instead of carbon like us.  Don't touch the plants, they use acid for photosynthesis." Morris answered.

            "You're kidding!"

            "Oh, don't worry, the safety protocols are all in force.  The worst you'll get is a rash, which would be very uncomfortable if you sat down under the trees."

            "Or did anything else under the trees!" 

            Both Starfleet Officers giggled like school girls.  Three, who had been standing a little to one side, turned to them and blushed.  This only made them laugh harder.

            Three decided to ignore them both for a few minutes.  The energy being which inhabited her program had learned a lot about the organic lifeforms recently, but their constant jokes and innuendoes about their reproduction processes continued to confuse her.  It had learned that they couldn't just divide in the presence of enough raw energy like it could, but that they actually had to swap chemical coded sequences.  The process took anywhere from 48 hours to 5 years, depending on the organic's DNA coding.  It doubted she would ever try it.  For one thing, the lifeform it inhabited was made of energy and light.  It could no more reproduce with the organic's than it's pure energy form.

            Instead, the energy being was concentrating on something else. The energy being was having increasing problems with the holo-programming.  Trying to blend in, it was letting the programmed sequences handle most of the interaction with the organics.  Why not, that was what they were for.  It released the energy being to search the databases for information about where it might have come from.  The problem was that the energy being was beginning to act more and more like the pre-programmed directives.  The being was finding it harder to tell itself from the program!  If it didn't leave soon, it might never be able to separate itself from the program.

            Three, that is how it thought of itself now more and more often, might have to leave soon anyhow.  She had soon discovered that it had been a mistake to leave the holo-deck.  No one had discovered the anomaly yet, but she figured it was only a matter of time.  If only the databases could be accessed faster.  She had tried to infiltrate the data core, but had found the security systems, though slow, to be very thorough there.  She could only access them at 500 gigahertz.  Fast enough for the organics to think they were instantaneous, but slow for her.  

But the potential of at last finding her home was vast.  These organics might be sloths, but given enough time, they could map out the entire galaxy!  Already, she had been there two weeks and had barely scratched the amount of data they had collected.  And this new data from some starship named "Voyager"!  It contained information on almost the entire Delta quadrant.  She was sure that some word of beings like her would filter in sooner or later.

Three considered the current situation.  The creators of the program were setting her another test, as if she had time to waste between her search and her programmed duties.  Still, she needed to play along if only to allay their suspicions for a while longer.  At least this test wasn't too bad, Three actually looked forward to it.  Captain Jartan, the Bolian merchant captain, on whose ship she had originally used for transport to the station was coming to the holo-suite to visit with her.  He hadn't known about his stowaway, but since then, the energy being had learned that he and Three had shared a mutual interest, Bolian poetry.  The complex language rhymes and concepts were totally new to the energy being.  Three conversed with Jartan as much as possible.

But when they conversed, she wore a different body than the primary one the creators liked best.  Three decided that she needed to continue the fiction that she was a hologram pretending to be an organic.  She accessed her Bolian persona and changed her outward appearance accordingly.

Morris and Shepherd noticed the change in Three's appearance at once.  Three's skin had changed to bright blue, which seemed to somehow look natural in the garish alien landscape.  Her Starfleet uniform changed into a tight fitting one piece outfit with gauzy skirts falling down to her ankles.  Her hair disappeared and a 1 centimeter ridge divided her head down the middle of her face.

"Did you do that?" Shepherd asked Morris quietly.

"No, she must have anticipated her needs on her own."

"Am I not here to meet with the Captain Jartan?" Three asked.  "He would not recognize me as a human, and you already know I am a hologram.  I decided to change in an effort to facilitate the social interaction."

"Oh." Shepherd looked disappointed.  "I had hoped it was something more."

"What more could you have wished?  As my creators, you can change my programming anytime you wish.  Do you wish me to reset back to my default persona?"

"No!" Morris said.  "We need you to appear as you are currently when Jartan arrives.  We are happy that you didn't wait for us to ask you to change.  We want you to display more initiative like this.  Remember," Morris said turning to Shepherd, "the hologram Doctor was online for years before he became sentient.  Three's only been online a month."

Morris turned back to Three,  "We are very happy with your progress Three, even the Bolian poetry.  I'm not fan of Bolian poetry myself, but the verses you've been able to write seem very nice.  You may even be able to publish some of them."

"Thank you, Laura-Jean," Three said.  "But I am still waiting for the appeals court to decide about the rights to the book that the Voyager's Doctor published.  His publisher has taken him back to court since his return from the Delta quadrant.  I will have to wait until I find out if programmed responses are the property of the person who writes the program or the program itself."

"Well, Three, the more you progress above your original programming, the more you are yourself.  This exercise should help you with that."  Morris said.

"Yes, he should be here soon."  Shepherd added.  Turning to Morris, she said, "We'd better leave now."

"Alright, Laura.  Now, Three, don't spend all night in here with him, and don't get a rash! Bye!"

Both Laura's laughed as they left the holo-suite.

S'ena stopped outside of Brian Starr's quarters.  In her arms she carried her hexcat Catastrophe, or Tass, for short.  She absentmindedly stroked his fur as she considered her next step.

She had never been inside Brian's quarters, though she knew he wouldn't mind her stopping by.  Even when they had served together aboard the U.S.S. Judith A. Resnik, Brian had always kept himself apart, always a good friend, but somehow distant.  Now S'ena felt that they were developing their friendship into something deeper, and she decided that he needed some encouragement.  

Thus, S'ena found herself outside his quarters door holding Tass for support.  All her life, S'ena had never wanted for companions.  Her exotic half Orion features seemed to draw men towards her.  She had always had an open and friendly personality, but men seemed to think it meant she wanted more from them, and women seemed to dislike her for it.  Still, her Orion pheromones acted on most lifeforms in the Alpha quadrant.  They caused most of them to feel the same way she felt, and since S'ena was mostly a happy person, most lifeforms, including plants, were happy to be around her.

A crewman walked past S'ena.  He stopped for a second, looked confused, and turned towards her.  "Are you alright?"  He asked.  

"Oh yes, just undecided." S'ena answered.

"I feel the same way."  He said.  "I was debating going back to my quarters, or going out to the promenade with some friends.  Suddenly, I couldn't make up my mind."

"I know how that can be.  You should see your friends.  Life is too uncertain."

"Yes, I think I will.  But it would be more fun with you along."

"Sorry, I have a previous engagement."  S'ena nodded towards the door.

"Oh well, maybe some other time."  The crewman said as he hurried off.

S'ena threw caution to the wind and reached for the door chime.

"Jat to S'ena, please report to the briefing room."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Saved by the bell." S'ena mumbled as she turned to take Tass to her quarters.  But who was it that was saved, she wondered.

Behind her, the door opened and out stepped Brian.

Klingon General K'batlh eptai LoDni sat in his command chair aboard his battlecruser, the IKV Hegh qaD.  He glared at the main screen.  He glared at the aid bringing him a report.  He glared at the entire bridge crew as they performed their duties.  Today would be a good enough day to die, he thought to himself, but it would be a better day to kill. I would hate to die amongst these mewlings, or because of them!

Around him, his new command crew worked hard at their duties.  All of them stared at their consoles, avoiding his gaze.  As well they should, he thought, none of them were as good as his old crew.  Most were replacements from the Klingon Navel Training Academy on planet Ogat.  The Klingon shipyards were turning out ships faster than the academy could train proper crews.  With so few trained commanders, most of K'batlh's command crew had been promoted to Captain and given their own ships.  Even old K'iHqas sutai LoDni', the General's right arm so to speak, had her own ship.  Not that he would be one to hold her back, nor was she unqualified for her own command, he just missed the grumbling old warrioress.

And qu'bang sutai LoDni, his bond mate, now lead a squadron, the Whitefire, under his command.  The LoDni clan had done well under K'batlh's leadership, but the price of success was never seeing his relations in the flesh.

Bah! What was he doing?  Reminiscing like an old man when he had an enemy to hunt!  Besides, this was the life he had always strove for.  Was it up to him to second guess success?  This was the way of the warrior!  To fight and defend, to live and die for the empire and family.  If the path was lonely, so much the better.  Fewer people to share the glory.  To business then.

"Sensors! Report!"

"No unusual contacts, General."

"Then look harder! Comm! Report!"

"No traffic indicating trouble, sir!"

"Then let's find some!  Helm!  Come about to course 317 mark 2!  Comm! Signal the fleet to disperse out to 2 light years apart in pattern Lima.  And someone find me a sign of those pirates!"

"Three, Laura Three, how sweet thou be, my Laura Three." The Captain Jartan, a Bolian merchant, was writing a new poem in honor of his love.  The meeting on Starbase 410 had gone even better than he had wished for.  Soon, she would leave her job and join him in the endless tracts of space.  Just the two of them, roaming the galaxy together, forever.  How could he have ever thought that space was boring?  How could he have ever thought that space was unromantic?  Why, if he had never gone to space, he would never have met the girl of his dreams!  Now they had the chance to spend endless hours making sweet poetry together.  Ah, the bards would hear of their love and great writings, and produce even more poetry about them, journeying together across the galaxy.

Jartan did a little dance around the control room of his freighter.  Life was good, profits were good and best of all, love was good!  Nothing could bring him down from his natural high…

Except the Comm system which suddenly barked not the sound of his sweet loves breath, but the dire warning of: "Attention alien vessel, surrender and prepare to be boarded.  Failure to comply will result in your immediate destruction."

Talk about a let down.  Jartan stopped dancing and ran to his command console.  Surrounding him were at least twelve fighters and three medium sized ships, all of mixed configurations.  The pirates had decided he'd gathered enough treasure to be worth stopping at last.  Ordinarily, Jartan wasn't a brave fellow and would have surrendered immediately, but with love in his heart, he turned into a lion.  

"Steal my ship and latinum will they?  Not today!"

He ejected his cargo and went to warp.  If they wanted just his cargo, well, he had enough to repurchase it.  Maybe they would just stop and pick it up, letting him go free.  He checked his sensors.  In fact, one of the medium sized ships was stopping to pick up the cargo, but the rest were in hot pursuit.  So hot, that the merchant saw he could not out run them.

Now, the small flame of bravery was dying out in the Jartan's breast, and he began to see his doom catching up to him.  The fighters would start shooting in seconds!

"Attention any and all vessels that can receive this message.  This is the Bolian freighter _Orange Pasture.  I am under attack from pirates and requesting help.  Please acknowledge.  Repeating…"_

Jartan placed the message on automatic repeat and powered up his feeble shielding.  He had no weapons to speak of, not against real fighters!  He saw that he couldn't outrun them, so he looked for a place to hide.  Blasts from the pirates streaked by his viewport, they had missed their first shots at such long range, but they were getting closer.  Almost like flowers, the shots expended themselves and exploded at set distances in the hope of damaging the fleeing freighter, or a least weakening it's shields.

In a nearby white dwarf system was an old gas giant.  It was a risk, but if the merchant ship could make it to the giant before the pirates caught him, he could hide in it's thick atmosphere.  Jartan changed course.

The pirates had noted the course change, and signaled one of the medium class ships.  It was primarily configured for speed, and it now leapt forward.  Within seconds it raced around the gas giant and directly into the path of the merchant ship.  The little freighter was cut off!

As Jartan began to shut down his engines and give up, his Comm system announced: "_Orange Pasture, this is the Whitefire squadron, commanded by qu'bang sutai LoDni, responding on a coded frequency.  Hang on for three more standard minutes, and we will arrive to aid you.  You will be justly rewarded for helping to rid the galaxy of these outlaws.  Do not surrender your vessel until forced to.  We need your help to stall them until we arrive.  Do not respond.  Repeat, do not respond."_

Jartan sifted all power to his shields and drive.  If his rescuers needed three minutes, he was sure he could give them to them.  But not a second more!

"General!  Captain qu'bang reports, she is about to engage the pirates near a white dwarf system."

"What!?! Where!?"

"Five light years from here, sir!  She also sends that you should hurry, as there are too many of them to get them all and they are dispersing rapidly.  She says that if you want in this fight to…"

"Well, what does she say?"

"If you want in this fight you should haul your buttocks, sir."

"Then what are we waiting for?  Helm!  Haul our buttocks now!  Maximum warp!  At long last we have these pirates and I'm not going to miss out on this fight!"

But when the Hegh qaD arrived there was little to do.  Most of the fighters were either gone or blown away.

"General, Captain qu'bang is hailing us."

"Good, I want to talk to her.  Put her on." 

On the main view screen appeared a strikingly beautiful Klingon woman.  Her forehead ridges were very pronounced, but from a Klingon point of view, that only made her more attractive.  Her only flaw, if you could call it that, was that her teeth were mostly straight.  Obvious evidence that she rarely took a blow to her jaw.

"nuqneH my General," the woman said.  "We have won this battle today!"

"Yes! And you may very well have lost the war!"

qu'bang looked dismayed.  "But my General, the enemy flees before us, those we didn't kill out right!  The hunt was easy, as soon as we hit them, they blew up.  Even now the rest of Whitefire squadron pursues the remainder."

"You had better hope they return with prisoners. You know quite well that I gave orders to capture some of them for interrogation.  The Earthers want to know where their main staging point is, and I gave them my word that we would find it.  Now our scanners show not a single survivor amongst the enemy."

"But my General, it was as I said, all we had to do was hit them and they disintegrated.  It was as if none of them wanted to be taken prisoner, even though we hailed them with the opportunity."

"My General," the warrior at the sensor console spoke up, "she is probably correct."

"Speak quickly or die!" The General's wrath turned towards the hapless warrior.

"Sensors indicate a high level of explosives in the remains of the enemy fighters.  They might not have known it themselves, but they must have been flying bombs.  In that case, they would not have been able to survive a direct hit from a Warbird, even with shields.  I suspect the enemy commander did this to his fighters on purpose, to keep any of his men from being captured."

"You will live another day.   qu'bang, transport to my vessel for a more personal debriefing.  We need to discuss a better strategy."

"General!" The sensor operator yelled.  "I have a medium sized pirate vessel one light year away.  It is boarding some drifting cargo." 

"Maximum warp!  I want that ship! qu'bang!  Have the rest of your squadron disperse around that ship to block any escape attempt!  This time I will have them!"

The Klingon ships circling the gas giant suddenly swarmed off towards the pirate vessel, the Hegh qaD leading the way.

"General, sensors show one enemy fighter has reached communications range of the pirate vessel."

K'batlh leaned foreword in his seat.

"Sir, the vessel is moving."

K'batlh glanced at the sensor operator, then turned his attention back to the screen.  "How long until we intercept it?"

"One more minute, General."

"Is the Whitefire squadron in position yet?"

"No, my General."

"Helm, are we at maximum warp?"

"Yes, my General."

K'batlh turned back towards the sensor operator.  "The enemy vessel, report!"

"Sir," the sensor operator gulped, "the pirate vessel has gone to warp in an evasive pattern…."

"And?"

"Sir, we have lost it."

"Dal pagh jagh." K'batlh said as he leaned back into his command chair.  "No enemy is boring." K'batlh glared at the mainscreen, again.


	15. Part 15 Progress

The Adventure Continues…  Part 15

            Lt. John Borda was taking his morning jog around the station.  That in itself wasn't very unusual, many people jogged around the station in order to stay fit.  No, what made John's jog unusual was that he jogged around the outside of the station.  

            This highly unusual and dangerous past time started soon after he took charge of several demoralized Klingon warriors, many of which tagged along with him on his morning suicidal run.  The trick was to stay right at the terminus, in the twilight area close to the boarder of light from the nearby Night Fire nebula.  Too far ahead, and you could freeze.  Too far behind, and you would burn.  Sensor antenna and opening hatches provided obstacles to overcome.  Occasionally they would pass an open window, giving them tempting views into the lives of the inhabitants of the giant space station, but to stop meant death.

            Actually, it wasn't as dangerous as John made it out to be.  He and his Klingon hoard had run their course many times and were intimately familiar with it.  The only ones who were scared were the new recruits, and John kept a very watchful eye on them.  That and a transporter lock.

            Today though, they were running a new course around the station.  Not as exciting as the normal run, but with enough challenges to keep it from becoming boring.  It was around the starship launch hatches.  Occasionally, a ship would launch in front of them.  Unable to stop, they hurtled the escaping ship.  This demanded exquisite timing, and John was very good at it.

            John had been counting the hatches as he went along.  There were fifty in total before they reached the personnel airlock.  As John reached the count of fifty, he slowed down.  There was no airlock!

            Checking his air and time, John realized he might be in trouble.  How far was the airlock?  He knew he had kept the correct count.  What had happened?  With the Night Fire nebula approaching, John had no choice but to continue. 

            As they crossed one more hatch, John saw the airlock.  Making it seem as if there had never been a problem, (one never showed fear or indecision in front of a Klingon), John made sure everyone got inside in time.

            Later, John researched the records. Built to allow the docking of small to medium sized vessels, all of the plans indicated that there were only fifty ship hatches around that section of the station.  John took his shuttle, Laika, out.  He knew he had counted correctly.

            Sure enough, John circled the station and counted fifty one hatches.  Circling again, this time checking the numbers against the doors, John found one that was unmarked.  He checked the schematics.  Each bay was the correct size, but the space between them was just enough off to allow for one more small bay.  John had found hanger 51.

"An unlisted ship bay, how curious.  Scanners read an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere well within station normal on the other side of the hatch.  I wonder…  Computer, transport me to these coordinates."

            A familiar whine sounded in John's ears, and the shuttle disappeared from around him.  In its place formed a standard ship's repair bay, complete with ship.  As the transport completed, John made out a strange ship, colored black.  It was clearly a Federation ship, but one like he had never heard of.  The registry number was NX-…

            John heard the whine of a transporter and the bay disappeared from around him.  This time John found himself in more familiar surroundings, one of the station's many brigs.

            "Oh, boy." 

            Commodore Jat was in Captain T'Pina's office for their morning briefing.  Besides the normal business of running the station, the pirates were the major topic.  Something had to happen, and soon.  The pirates were endangering ships all across the triangle.  Never striking in the same place, and always where the patrol ships were the farthest.  It seemed as if they had accurate intelligence on the Klingon and Federation ship movements.  The only way Jat could see to stop them was to escort every ship entering the triangle, something she didn't have enough ships to do, even if the merchants desired it, which they certainly didn't.

            A small light began to blink for attention on T'Pina's desk.  A small light, but one neither of them could afford to ignore.

            Looking at it as if seeing it for the first time, T'Pina said, "I see our web has finally caught a fly."

            "It had too happen sooner or later, I guess.  There are too many intelligent people running around this station to keep something secret for long.  I just wish it had remained hidden for a while longer."

            "Perhaps this is a sign."

            Jat was surprised at T'Pina, and showed it.  "A sign?"

            "You've been hiding that, waiting a good time to use it.  Why not against the pirates."

            "Yes, but first, let's see who our fly is…"

            John had been sitting in his cell for long enough.  Pacing the walls had taken over from yelling for the guard.  Now he only yelled when his journey around the cell put him near the door.  That was every 30 seconds, or 9 steps, by his count.  It appeared that either the guards weren't coming to let him out, or this was an unused section of the prison.  The former allowed that eventually, someone would see or hear him, the latter meant that he might really be in trouble.  A touch to the forcefield told him that it was in full force and to not try that again.  His finger still tingled, especially when he paced near the entrance.

            "Think, John.  How does one escape from a brig?  I could try the old fire trick.  That should set off an alarm."

            "I wouldn't try that Lieutenant."  Came the calm voice of Captain T'Pina as she appeared around the corner.  "If the automatic fire suppression didn't put it out, you could die from suffocation before someone came along to rescue you."

            "Oh, am I ever happy to see you!  Can you let me out of here?"

            "And why would she want to do that?" Commodore Jat said as she came up behind T'Pina.  "Who do you think put you in there?"

            "Uh oh, something tells me I'm in big trouble this time."

Lieutenant Commander S'ena was the last to arrive in the briefing room.  The only chair available, other than the three near the front, was next to Lt. Cdr. Jeanette Warren, who was waving her over.  As she sat down, she noticed Lt. Cdr. Brian Starr, sitting across from her, talking to Lt. John Borda.  Lt. Cdr. Saryena Remora was looking out of place so far from Engineering, but gave S'ena a smile.

            S'ena turned to Jeanette and asked, "Do you know why we were called to this briefing?"

            "I was hoping you knew." 

            Just then, Commodore Jat entered, followed by her Vulcan Executive Officer, Capt. T'Pina, and a very pleased with herself Major Madia Amme, of the Bajoran Militia.

            "Doesn't the major look like the cat who ate the canary?" Jeanette whispered to S'ena.

            "The cat who what?"

            "Sorry, old earth expression.  I'll explain later."

"Ahem, if I may have your attention, please." Commodore Jat announced.  "Let's begin, Commander Starr, please give us a report on the condition of the Sacagawea." 

            Brian looked confused for a second, but his voice was confident when he began.  "Well, working within the constraints you gave us, she will be ready to sail in a day or two.  She'll never be able to perform her old job without better upgrades, but she should be good enough to teach our cadets about the old days.  Commander Remora and I have gone over her from stem to stern, and have only to finish up some sensor work.  Are we going to take her out for a shake down cruse?"

            "No, Mr. Starr, we are going to sell her."

            "Commodore!  We have invested a lot of time and resources to her refit for the Deep Space Academy.  We can't just sell her!"

            "I can, and I will.  I already have an approved buyer."

            "But Commodore!" Brian half rose out of his chair.

            T'Pina gave Brian a look which sat him back in his chair.

"Don't worry Commander," Jat said, "I'm sure you will also approve of the buyer."

S'ena felt sorry for Brian.  He and the rest of the volunteers had spent considerable time refitting the century old ship.  It didn't seem fair to sell it as soon as they had gotten it finished.

"May I ask who the buyer is then?"

"Not right away, but you will know soon enough.  Now people, I want to ask each of you to volunteer for an away mission.  There will be considerable danger, and you will be away for quite a while.  All I can tell you is that it is vitally important.  Anyone who wants to opt out should leave now."

Many of the officers sitting around the table looked at each other in curiosity, but none of them got up.

"Very well.  I expected this much, which is why I chose you.  Everything you are about to hear is classified.  If so much as a whisper leaves this room, it could put all of your lives in danger. Captain?"

T'Pina nodded and began.  "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are hunting pirates.  Since they only make their appearances when unarmed merchants travel alone, that is what you will be doing.  Major Amme will take command of the Sacagawea, and you will crew her.  It is our hope that, posing as merchants, the old Federation ship will be irresistible to them. It would still be considered quite the prize in some parts of the galaxy.  You will all assume new identities and begin a life as merchants.  Before you leave, Commander Warren will alter your appearances.  Commander, do you have any preliminary ideas?"

"Well, S'ena will be easy.  I'll just increase the level of melanin in her skin.  Instead of her normal pale green, she will assume the color of a full blooded Orion female.  It will be just like giving her a tan and it will turn up as normal on any med scans.  She'll have to spend a few minutes under a sun lamp everyday so it doesn't wear off as quickly, but it will work." Jeanette turned towards S'ena.  "I've been wanting to try this trick on you ever since I first met you." She said evilly.

S'ena was horrified.  "Will there be any change in…intelligence?"

"No, just skin color.  That's what makes it such a good idea.  Anyone who doesn't know you will assume you are a normal Orion female, as long as you act the part."

"Do you have any more ideas?" T'Pina asked.

"Well, Brian and John can grow beards.  I've got some excellerated hair growth formula, and I think Brian would look good bald."

"Bald! Now wait one minute.  I heard about danger, but that is going too far!"

"If it's good for the mission… Just think of Captains Pickard and Sisko."

"Hey," John interrupted, "I've been thinking of growing a beard.  It will make me look older."

"Enough," Commodore Jat announced. "Major, you will bring me a proposed schedule of layovers by 1900.  Commanders Remora and Starr, you will expedite the repair of the Sacagawea and outfit her for trade.  Use some of the confiscated goods we have been storing, nothing illegal or too valuable.  Warren, you'll handle communications. Starr, you'll be at helm.  Remora, you will keep things together in Engineering as usual.  S'ena, when not being an Orion slave girl, you will watch Enviromental Control."

"Slave girl, huh.  Who's supposed to be my master?"

"I'll leave that up to Major Amme, but remember, yours could be the most important job on the mission.  Most assuredly, they will imprison the rest of the crew if they aren't killed outright.  You, we are assuming, will be put somewhere else.  Orion slave girls are still an expensive commodity, even if they are outlawed in all of the advanced civilizations of the Alpha quadrant.  You may be the only one who can act."

S'ena seemed more subdued, as did the rest of the volunteers.

"Your mission is to get caught, but not to die.  You must be captured.  All of your clothes will be outfitted with veridian patches, that way we can track you up to two parsecs away.  When you have reached the pirate hideout, you will activate a signal and General K'batlh has sworn to rescue you, as well as capture, or destroy, as many of the pirates as he can. This may be our only chance to end the pirate threat in the triangle.  Enough for your pep talk.  People, you have jobs to do.  Let's get them done."

As they all filed out of the briefing room, Brian held John back.  "I didn't hear why you were coming, not that you're not welcome."

"Me?  Well, you could say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  You know that old saying about curiosity and the cat?  Well, I'm the cat."

"He is gone."

"What was that, Three?" Lt. Laura-Jean Morris asked her computer assistant.  She was distracted by a docking manuver that was going poorly.  The ship had been damaged and was having trouble with it's thrusters.  "Red Dawn, please cut all propulsion and allow us to tractor you in."  

"He is gone." Three announced again.

"Who is gone, Three?"

"He who makes my life bearable.  He who sets me on fire.  He who lifts me from the tedium of this mortal coil…"

"Enough!  Three, can you wait a second?"

"A second?  Each second I am separated from him feels like a year.  I long to hear his voice on my monitors…"

Morris cut the audio link with Three, just as Ensign Laura Shepherd entered.  "I think there is something wrong with Three, but I've got to handle this docking.  Can you talk with her?"

"Sure, put her back on."

"…is a moment to you mortals of flesh and blood, but to a computer it can be eons of torment…"

"Three, what is the nature of your malfunction?"

"I've been trying to tell you!  He is gone!"

"Who is gone, Three?"

"He who makes my life bearable.  He who sets my soul on fire.  He who lifts me from the tedium of this mortal coil…"

Morris cut the audio link with Three again.  "I've heard this part."

"What is wrong with her?"

"Try a diagnostic test.  Maybe she's caught in some kind of loop."

Shepherd turned on the audio to Three again.

"Will you please stop doing that?" Three complained.  "I'm very upset here, and all you creators can do is turn me off."

"Sorry, Three.  Please perform a level 3 diagnostic on your programming."

"Level 3 diagnostic in progress."

"Maybe we shouldn't have left her alone so much with Captain Jartan.  Maybe all that poetry is confusing her."  Shepherd suggested.

"Red Dawn, you can power down your systems now, we have you."  Morris turned to Shepherd.  "What was Three going on about?"

"Someone is missing, but more than that, I can't tell you."

"Level 3 diagnostic completed.  All systems functional."

"There, see?  She's fine again."  Shepherd said.

"He is gone."

"Oh, no! Not again!"

Morris decided to take action and started to access Three's programming.

"What are you doing?" Shepherd anxiously asked.  "I thought we agreed to leave Three's programming alone."

"Well, she's obviously malfunctioning, so I'm temporarily removing her poetry subroutines.  I'll put them back right after we figure out what has gone wrong with her.  There, Three…"

"Yes." The voice sounded flat somehow.

"Who is missing?"

"The Bolian merchant, Captain Jartan, and his ship, the Orange Pasture."

"Did he just go out of range?  Did he fail to turn up at a scheduled time? Did he disappear from our sensors?  Just how did he go missing?"

"I was tracking him via deep space probes when he was attacked by several vessels of different configurations.  He set course for a red dwarf system and disappeared near a gas giant.  I could not reestablish contact."

"Laura-Jean"

"Yes?"

"I just checked Three's coordinates.  We don't have anything that can probe that far and return anything near the kind of data she's giving us."  Shepherd said in a small voice.

"I think I'd better call Commander Warren."


	16. Part 16

The Adventure Continues…  Part 16

            Commodore Jat and Captain T'Pina were in the classified ship's hanger 51.  Behind them stood the Commodore's spy ship, the U.S.S. Dark Star.  Its dark color seemed to drink in the lights from the overhead lamps, reflecting nothing.  It's unconventional shape was covered with strange angles and planes, as if it were made by a novice in origami.  The only reason anyone would have recognized it as a Starfleet vessel was the low-slung warp engines and the registration numbers.  NX-8927 was a very special Starfleet Intelligence vessel, and it's presence at Starbase 410 would have been a surprise to many people, even in Starfleet Intelligence.  If they knew.  Which they didn't.

"T'Pina, we may be gone for quite a while this time." Commodore Jat told her old friend and second in command.  "But I know you can hold everything together until I return."

            "I noticed that Lt. Cdr. S'ena has taken a leave of absence.  Was that your idea?"

            "Last time I left her here, she infested the station with Tribbles.  I thought it best to take her with me.  By the way, did the U.S.S. Sacagawea get off on time?"

            "Major Amme left with her crew early this morning.  They should be picking up their first load of replacement crew in 2 hours."

            "Good.  Now I must hold up my end."

            Both officers looked at the Dark Star.

            "Commodore, I know the researchers at Starfleet R & D have tested this technology," T'Pina said, "and I have gone over it as much as you will let me, but are you sure it will work?  Remember the Pegasus? The Federation doesn't have a lot of practice with cloaking technology."

            "The Defiant seems to work all right."

            "Yes, Commodore, and the Klingons have helped as well, but this is a whole new technology to us."

            "Not so.  Earth experimented with this technology all the way back to the 20th Century.  It is just a natural extension of that stealth technology."

            "A new kind of invisible ship.  If the Romulans found out about this, they would break every treaty with us."

            "That is why we must ensure that it remains a secret.  There is only one of these ships, that I know of, and it's never been tested in the field.  Now is the chance to try and not make history."

            "Lt. Morris to Capt. T'Pina" T'Pina's comm badge chirped.

            "T'Pina, go a head."

            "Ma'am, we have had a problem with our Starbase Holographic Artificial Intelligence Traffic Controller and we thought we should contact Cdr. Warren, but the computer says she has taken a leave of absence to return home.  It was rather sudden wasn't it?  Anyway, we could sure use your help."

            "I'll be right there, T'Pina out."

            "And so it begins." Jat said.  "You cover for us while we do what must be done.  I will see you again."

            T'Pina raised her hand in a Vulcan salute.  "Live long and prosper Commodore," T'Pina lowered her hand and curled it into a fist to slam against her chest.  "or as the Klingons would say, Qapla'!"

            "Success to you as well."  Jat hit her chest.  "Maybe we have spent too much time drinking with Ambassador Ke'reth." 

            "T'Pina to computer.  Activate automatic transport sequence T'Pina-34 Alpha."

            Jat watched as her friend faded away in a shower of sparks, then turned towards the Dark Star.  "Well, let's see if this thing works as well as advertised."

            Jat placed her hand on the hatch.  It glowed briefly and started to retract into the ship.  When it was open enough, Jat entered the airlock.

            A cold female computer voice requested, "Please state your name and authorization code within 10 seconds, or the intruder alert system will activate."

            Not really knowing what the ship would do once the intruder alert system activated, Jat quickly said, "Anarita Jat, authorization: Curzon, you Targ."

            The computer voice replied more warmly, "Authorization accepted Commodore.  Welcome back.  It has been 67 standard days, 18.6 hours, since you last came aboard.  There was an unauthorized presence in the hanger yesterday, but the automatic transport sequence sent them to the pre-coordinated destination.  Is your presence here in response to that incursion?"

            "In a way, please open the hatch and activate the ship's crew.  Have them prepare for immediate launch."

            The airlock in front of Jat opened and she began her way forward to the bridge.  By the time she arrived, the bridge was full of people working at their stations.  Systems were being checked and double checked.  The bridge was oval shaped with the ends pointing fore and aft.  Not unlike the bridge of a Klingon bird-of-prey, though smaller. Jat entered in the rear door.  In the front was the pilot's chair, with the strong back of one of Jat's old lovers working over the console.  To either side were various other friends from Jat's past working at their consoles.  Curzon himself stood up from the command chair in the center of the bridge.

            "Jat, you old space herpes." He said.

            "Oh, no.  I'm not ready for this.  Computer, deactivate Curzon character."

            Curzon looked surprised, "You blasphemous old…" he said as he disappeared.

            Jat sat down in the now vacant command chair and reviewed her holographic crew.  Around her worked images of friends and lovers whom she had known throughout her lives.  Mostly, she remembered how well each had done their job, and how well they had worked with her.  She hoped the computer simulations would work just as well.

Checking her status indicators on the arm of her chair, Jat noticed that all of the local traffic had been serendipitously moved to the other side of the station. No one was left to see them leave.

"K'lorox," the Klingon navigator looked up from his station, "Please open the bay doors."

"Yes, ma'am. Bay doors opening."

"Mr. Pike," Jat said and the pilot turned around, "take us out."

            Lt. Commander K'SQqwa SuDs'qan'ya, a Klingon serving in Starfleet as Starbase 410's head of station security, was vexed.  Someone, or something, had been raiding the station's data archives for almost two weeks.  Whoever they were, they were good, he admitted.  He was only able to tell they had tried by the automatically recorded dates the computer filed when data was accessed.  In other words, after the fact.  It could have been just coincidence, except for the vast amounts of data they accessed.  K'SQqwa couldn't see how they had time to look at the data.  The intruder must have a fast computer, he reasoned, looking for only certain criteria.  A very specialized virus the computer security systems couldn't find.  Perhaps if he could figure out what they were looking for, he could find it first and lay a trap.

            So far the only data accessed had been astrological, as if someone were looking through the entire planetary database for something.  Anything of real value was encrypted at much harder levels of security than the spy could access, so far.  Of course, if someone wanted to invade the Alpha quadrant, the information they had gotten a hold of would be invaluable, but why also look at the Bolian poetry data?  Perhaps it was a Bolian spy, but as member species of the United Federation of Planets, wouldn't they already have this information?

            The most upsetting part of it all was that he had almost cornered the computer virus that the spy used, when it had suddenly gone off line.  Had it detected him? Had he spooked it?  He wished he knew.  Computer espionage wasn't exactly his forte.  Still, he knew the spy would be back.  Criminals were a predictable lot, he thought.  As long as they didn't get caught, they would return to the scene of the crime to pillage again and again, and this character had a lot of information left to steal. If only he could figure out what they were looking for.

            T'Pina arrived in Ops looking more tired than usual, as if she were worried about something.  Lt. Laura-Jean Morris immediately discounted that of course, since she knew T'Pina was Vulcan, and everyone knew Vulcans never worried.

            T'Pina's voice was crisp and firm when she said, "Report, what is wrong with your hologram?"

            Ensign Laura Shepherd stepped forward holding out a data pad.  "We think you should look at this."

            "It's data given to us from Three just before we took her off line." Morris said.

            "This seems to be a very detailed report of a battle the General had with the pirates." T'Pina said.  "I wasn't aware that the General had reported in."

            "He hasn't yet." Morris replied.  "This data was gathered by Three."

            "Fascinating, this report is much too detailed to be rendered from on station sensors alone.  Three must be piggy backing on other ships and probes to detect such detail at such long distances.  You've increased station sensors by a factor of 3.76.  I doubt we could have ever duplicated this intricate data on our own.  Congratulations are in order for all three of you.  This technique will help Starfleet vessels explore more rapidly, and help us keep the peace more readily, in the future."

            "But Captain," Shepherd said, "It shouldn't have happened and we don't know how to recreate it."

            "I'm sure Three does, and it will give you something to work on when you're off duty.  Keep me informed." 

            "Capt., Three has had a nervous breakdown." Shepherd said, "Her logic links have become fuzzy and she keeps spouting poetry and complaining that the Bolian merchant involved in the General's battle is gone."

            "Please bring her back on line." T'Pina said.

            The three officers worked with Three's programming for a few minutes, then brought Three online.

            "Three, this is Capt. T'Pina.  Do you recognize me?"

            "Captain T'Pina, Executive Officer and Second in Command of Starbase 410.  Vulcan, injured in the battle of Wolf 359.  Age…"

            "Enough!  What are your duties on Starbase 410?"

            "Communicate with and coordinate spatial traffic in an area from 5 light seconds to 50 light years of Starbase 410.  Scan for illegal entities, activities or cargos.  In case of emergency, I am to…"

            "Enough.  Are you able to resume those duties?"

            "That is a value judgement that I am not qualified to make."

            "Very good, Three." T'Pina turned to the other two and said, "I think that it's logic circuits are fine.  When does the problem start?"

            "When we bring the personality subroutines online, especially the poetry subroutines." Shepherd said.

            "Let's bring them back online while we monitor." Morris suggested.  "I read a report that said Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram Doctor had a similar breakdown when it was forced to decide on which of two patients it could save while allowing the other patient to die.  This set up a logic dilemma that the program finally had to be talked through."

            "Very well."

            When Morris added the poetry subroutines, the energy being sprang from the memory core and filled the holoprogram.  It realized that it had reacted poorly to the disappearance of Captain Jartan, but it remained strangely upset.  Still, it had to play along with the organics, or risk being found out.

            "He is gone."

            "Who is gone, Three?" Asked T'Pina.

            "The Bolian merchant with whom I compare poetry.  His ship was involved in a battle 4 standard hours ago.  Sensors indicated that there was no one left alive on his ship after the battle."

            "Perhaps one of the Klingon vessels rescued him."

            "One moment, checking."

            Shepherd looked at Morris, "What does she mean, checking?"

            "I believe she is rebuilding her sensor network to scan the Klingon vessels."

            "No Bolian life signs on any of the Klingon vessels in this parsec."

            "She scanned every Klingon ship in the parsec for Bolian lifesigns in…"

            "6.3 seconds," T'Pina said. "Fascinating.  I wonder how many she got.  Did she get the ones at warp?  Did she get all of the cloaked ones? Did she get detailed readings on all of them?  Three, may I look at your data?"

            "Of course."  Streams of data rolled across first one screen, then another, then another.  Shortly, every display in Ops was showing data.  T'Pina was able to follow most of it, but she could tell the other two were overwhelmed.

            "Three, there is a time lapse between the battle and your readings on the Klingon ships." Morris noted. 

            "Yes, that was the period when I was…unconscious, as you would say."

            "So Captain Jartan could have been rescued and taken someplace during that time."

            "Yes, there is a 5.02% chance of that having occurred, based on the positions and transporter ranges of the Klingon vessels during the attack and the amount of time until I…woke up."

            "So he could be alive.  We would just have to find him, or wait until he can contact us."

            "Thank you, Lt. Morris.  You have given me hope."

            "That's what creators are for Three."

            "Lt. Morris," T'Pina said.  "I want you and Ensign Shepherd to find out the limits to Three's abilities and how she does this.  And above all, keep this a secret.  I can imagine what our allies would say if they found out the extent to which we can scan them now."

            "Yes, ma'am!" Both Lauras replied.

            Jeanette Warren, Brian Starr and John Broda were in another nameless pub on another nameless planet.

            "I'm bored." Brian complained.

            "That is because you never loosen up, Brian.  Look at John." Jeanette said.

            "Yeah, have another ale, or what ever they call this stuff." John leaned forward conspiritualy.  "Come on, Brian, we've mustered a full crew from the scum of the universe, at least this planet's scum, relax.  This is just like my old days."

            "Maybe it's the beard." Jeanette said while scratching Brian's chin.  "You really do look good bald."  Jeanette reached over and patted Brian on his now uncovered head.

            "I like my beard." John said.  "It makes me look older, more distinguished."

            "But some of those guys we hired are going to be next to useless, or worse, take up supplies we need.  I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to take over the ship."

            "You have definitely got to learn to take things as they come.  Don't worry about it.  This isn't Starfleet, you have to take what you can scrape up. I'm sure Major, I mean Captain Amme, can handle everything." Jeanette said.

            "Well, you don't have to worry about that last guy.  He at least was honest about knowing engineering.  I wonder why he hadn't gotten signed on by anybody else." John said as he looked at his data pad.  "Balor of Tanis IV. I'm not sure, but isn't Tanis IV pretty far from here?  Maybe he's running from something.  He sure seemed nervous."

            "Wouldn't you be nervous if you had to sign on with an unknown ship in a bar like this in some place as dangerous as the triangle?"  Brian said.

            "Yawn. Been there, done that.  Got the rash." John replied.

            Brian just looked at John as Jeanette laughed.

            "Come on Brian," Jeanette said, "you know we have to hire people like this so we can fire them at the next planet.  They will spread the news about our merchant ship, while we hire some more just like the first ones.  By the time we have gone to three or four more planets, the pirates will have heard of us, and then…I'm going to get another drink.  Anybody else?"

            "No thanks." Brian said.

"I'll take another ale." John replied.

"I think you've had too much already." Said Jeanette as she left them for the bar.

            "Now that she's gone," John said, "would you mind telling me about the girl you keep looking at over my shoulder?"

            "Oh, sorry.  It's not a girl, it's two Klingons."

            "Two Klingons?  Your tastes must have changed." John made to turn around, but Brian stopped him.

            "Slowly, not so obvious.  Don't let them know you know they are there."

John looked at Brian curiously.  "What would Klingons be doing here?"

"That's what I would like to know."

John tossed a table scrap on to the floor, then bent to pick it up.

"I see them, but they look like two average Klingon civilian merchants to me."

"Look again.  Their postures are too erect and their demeanor too savage.  The clothes are too new and stiff.  I'd bet they are Klingon warriors trying to look like civilians."

"Who is trying to look like what?" Jeanette said as she returned to the table.

"Brian is being paranoid about the two Klingons near the door."

"Brian, are you being paranoid about the two Klingons near the door?"

"NO!" Brian said just a little too loud.  Other patrons turned to look toward them, then seeing nothing of interest, looked away.

"I think I know them." Brian said in a whisper.

"Well, most Klingons look a like to me, but when would you have met two Klingon merchants, on the station perhaps?" Jeanette said.

"No," John added, "You can tell them apart by their head ridges."

 Brian looked at John again.

"Just trying to help, old boy." John said.

The door to the pub opened up and a large Klingon warrioress walked in.  Looking around, she joined the two already seated.

"That tears it!  I knew I recognized them." Brian said as he leapt from the table.  As he approached the Klingons he said, "You Klingon scum! You've been watching us from the minute we came in here!  Are you working for the pirates?" 

"Watch what you say Earther!" the largest Klingon said as she stood up.  "I've killed for less.  Go back to your seat before you die!"

"Or what?  You'll kill me with your bad breath?  Or are you going to tell your pirate buddies about our ship's rich cargo?  I should have known your kind of scum would work for them."

            The warrioress glared at Brian, but held off swinging.  Her two younger companions stood and took positions at either side of her.  There was no mistaking them for civilians now as they stared at Brian murderously.

            "Uh, Brian, maybe we should go back to our chairs." John said.  Brian hadn't even realized John and Jeanette were with him.

            "Yes, do as the little man says.  Run away before you say something that will force my hand." The warrioress said.

            "You want something to force your hand?  How about this…" Brian reached out with a right cross.  The warrioress ducked, but the Klingon behind her didn't.  Brian's punch took him by surprise, but didn't take him out.  Not that Brian cared, since the warrioress landed a clean one in his solar plexus.

            John grabbed the attention of the warrior who had been punched by Brian, by, well, grabbing him, and lifting.  The warrior's eyes bulged in pain.  John threw him across the next table, thus spreading the fight.

            As the warrior to Brian's right moved forward to finish him, Jeanette faked a left punch then spun around to kick him in the knee.  He went down with a roar.

            The warrioress leaned over Brian and said, "I knew you were all talk and no action Earther."

            Brian straightened up with an upper cut to the Klingon's chin, sending her over backwards.  She got up from the floor as Brian shook his hand in agony.

            Jeanette's opponent was back up on one leg and looking for revenge.  He reached behind his back and pulled out his d'k tahg, a Klingon dagger.  Jeanette grabbed a chair.  Looking at the chair and figuring it wouldn't make much of a weapon, Jeanette parried the Klingon's thrust.  She then broke the chair over his head.  The chair shattered, leaving her with two legs and one angry Klingon.

            John turned from the alien he had just floored and heard whistles from outside the pub.  He looked for Brian, just in time to see him fly across the room with the assistance of the Klingon warrioress.  Jeanette was strangling her Klingon warrior with one of her table legs.  The Klingon John had been fighting was now engaged with two large and ugly Nausicaans.  The only one who seemed happy was the Klingon.

            "I heard whistles.  I think the local constabulary is on it's way, if you could hurry?" John said to Jeanette.

            "There, I think this one is done." Jeanette said as the Klingon she had been strangling passed out.  She got up as she let him fall to the floor.  "Where is Brian?"

            "Last time I saw him, he was airborne.  Let's check for him over by the Klingon warrioress."

            The two of them fought their way through the growing brawl to where the warrioress stood over Brian.  Brian was trying to get up from the floor where he had landed.  

            John and Jeanette grabbed the warrioress from behind and tried to hold her while Brian got up.

            "Unfair!  I cry foul!" the warrioress yelled.

            "Since when have you ever fought fair?" Brian asked as he pulled back for another punch.

            "Brian, we don't have time for this!" John said.  "The locals are on their way!  We've got to get out of here before they show." 

            The warrioress looked at John, then turned back to Brian.  "It would do neither one of us good to be detained.  Admit I have won this round."

            "You don't look like you are winning now." Jeanette said as the warrioress struggled.  "And one of your boys drew his d'k tahg.  Knives don't usually go over well with the authorities."

"A draw then." Brian admitted. "Let her go. This doesn't cancel your blood debt to me."

            "You think my honor is purchased so cheaply that a bar room brawl could cancel my blood debt to you Earther? Next time, I _will_ kill you!" she said as she ran for the door.

            "We'd better get out of here ourselves." John said.

            "The back door, hurry!" Jeanette advised.

            "A blood debt to a Klingon?" John asked Brian, but Brian just doubled over in pain and moaned as a response.

            They half carried Brian to the rear of the pub and out into the alley behind it.  Once into the night air, Brian seemed to revive, and they ran faster.  Whistles surrounded them in the night.  As they ran past an alley, Brian pulled up short.

            "I can't run anymore! In here, quickly!" Brian said.

            The three ran down the garbage filled alley, only to find that it was a dead end.

            "Quick!  Call the ship for a beam out!" John said to Jeanette.

            "I've lost my communicator." She replied.

            "So have I." Said Brian.

            From down the alley they could see patrolmen approaching.

            "Ooh! Media's not going to like this." Jeanette said.

            "At least Brian's not bored anymore." John quipped.

            "Moan"


	17. Part 17

The Adventure Continues…  Part 17

            Media Amme was mad.  "Do you have any idea how much you three have cost me? No! You don't! Well, let me tell you!  All of the profit we've made so far AND half of our cargo!  What insane idea came into your heads to start a fight?!" In a quieter voice that held more menace, she continued.  "And you call yourselves Starfleet?" 

            "Hey, at least we won." John squeaked out.

            "Won!  Why I ought to space the lot of you!" Madia yelled.  "Except I can't, so I'm going to work it out of you."

            "But Major…I mean, Captain, I saw Captain K'iHqas and some of her crew in the pub.  I'm sure they were following us to spy for General K'batlh." Brian said.  "I was sure they would give us away."

"So you decided to dissuade them of the idea by fighting?  Maybe you don't want a cloaked Klingon Bird-of-Prey following us, but that was my decision to make, not yours!  Double shifts for all of you.  Dismissed!"

            As Jeanette Warren, Brian Starr and John Broda turned to leave the briefing room, Madia added, "And no more shore leave!" 

            Outside, in the corridor, they each breathed a sigh of relief.  

            "Well, that could have been worse." Jeanette said.

            "I haven't been chewed out like that since the academy!" John added.

            "I'm sorry guys.  I guess I could have handled the whole thing better." Brian said.

            "What?  And miss a good fight?  Call on me anytime you want to bash heads!" Jeanette said.

            "Me too!" John said.  "I haven't had that much fun since I spent that time on…"

            Jeanette noticed S'ena standing down the corridor, watching with concern.  "John, let's let Brian go to sickbay.  I think he's still a little sore."

            "Thanks guys, for everything."

            "Sure, Brian." 

            As Jeanette and John left, Brian turned to go to sickbay.  That's when he saw S'ena watching him.  Brian automatically tried to stand up straighter, but his stomach had other plans.  Brian doubled over in pain.

            S'ena ran over to him. "Oh, you silly boy.  Still trying to play the hero?"

            "Does it show?" 

            "Yes, terribly.  Let's get you to sickbay before you loose your lunch."

            "Not too much chance of that.  I already lost it on the feet of the local constabulary chief."

            "That couldn't have been pretty."

            "No, it wasn't."

            When the reached sickbay, S'ena helped Brian on to a diagnostic bed.  She ran a medical tricorder over him.  

            "Yep, just what I thought." She said.

            "Is it bad?" Brian asked.

            S'ena reached behind her for a medical instrument.  It started to glow menacingly when she turned it on.  "Oh, it's very bad." She said seriously.

            "Will I die?" Brian asked hesitantly.

            S'ena was silent as she waved the instrument over Brian's midriff.  She looked very worried.  'I don't know.  This is the worse case of subdermal hematoma I've ever seen on someone who was still alive."

            "Well, can you give me something for the pain?"

            "Sure, how about this…" S'ena reached over and pinched Brian's arm.

            "Ouch! That hurts! Why'd you do that?"

            "Does it hurt more than your stomach?"

            "Well, now that you mention it, yes."

            "So you're not thinking about how much your stomach hurts now, are you?"

            "No, I'm not! My arm is in agony!"

            "Well, you asked for something to ease your stomach pain."

            "Remind me not to get sick while you're playing Doctor.  I thought you said I had a sub something or other."

            "You had a bruise.  I fixed it with a dermal regenerator.  Really, you can be such a baby sometimes."

            Brian got up off the table, rubbing his stomach.  "Hey, there is still a little pain."

            "Darn right!  I left some bruising just to teach you not to go starting fights with Klingon women when I'm not around.  Don't you know that's how they initiate their mating rituals?"

            "You're not serious!"

            "You mean you never heard of that?"

            "No, I haven't!" Brian blushed.

            S'ena laughed, "Ol' K'iHqas is probably thinking dirty thoughts about you right now."

            "Oh, No!" Brian moaned. "That's the last thing I need to think about.  You are evil!"

            "Captain K'iHqas," Amme said,  "Please try to keep more of a distance from our ship.  Even cloaked, I fear the pirates might be able to detect you.  We know that they have a very extensive intelligence apparatus, and if your crew shows up at the same planets that we do, they might not take the bait."

            "General K'batlh wants these pirates eliminated." K'iHqas said.  "He has charged me with providing him the information he needs to accomplish this.  I will not be denigned."

            "Then follow us if you want, just not too closely, say half a parsec.  That will give you enough time to respond if we are able to send out a distress signal.  But no more planetary observations.  The pirates will attack us in space, not in pubs!"

            "Very well, I understand your meaning. K'iHqas out."

            "Think she'll stay away?" Jeanette asked.

            "No, but she'll be more distant and won't spy on our away teams." Amme said.  "We'll take what we can get.  In this old tub, I doubt we could do anything about her anyway.  I wasn't even sure she was out there until your little fight."

            "Do you think the pirates will attack us?" Jeanette asked.

            "They better!  I'm sure getting bored being a cargo captain." Madia said.  She looked a Jeanette.  "Of course it might be more interesting if we could make a profit, or at least you could invite me to the fights.  I like a little ruckus myself you know."

            "I'll make a note of that."

            Ambassador Ke'reth liked children, really! Served with a blood wine marinade, he thought.  He looked around the pastoral park setting.  Yes, B'sel's three kids were still there, near the callisthenic equipment.

            It had seemed so easy at first.  His assistant, B'sel, had asked him for some personal time and could he watch the little ones while she attended to a few things.  It seemed that her regular child minder, Lt. John Borda, had disappeared.  Well, she made up his schedule, so of course she knew he had the time this afternoon.  What could he say? After all, children were the future of the Empire.  They could benefit from a few hours spent with a real warrior.

            Then she had asked him if he could take them to "The Park".  It was a 24-hour holo-program for families.  While she personally hadn't seen the holo-program herself, the kids loved it.  Could he evaluate the program for her? "The Park" was all of the rage with the other mothers on the starbase.  It was a safe, entertaining program for small children.  Entertaining for small children maybe, but not for ambassadors!

            A figure covered in bazaar face paints and colorful clothing approached Ke'reth, offering him some kind of gas filled bladder.  It floated on the end of a string. Ke'reth took the balloon, deciding it must be some confection, and bit it.  Of course it exploded in his face.  Surprised, Ke'reth leapt up and grabbed the clown by the throat.

            "I can get you another!" the panicked holo-figure squeaked out.

            Reason reasserted itself and Ke'reth released the clown, who ran away.

            Setting himself back down on the uncomfortable park bench, he started his evaluation.  At first it had been easy to see the difference between the holo-charactors and the real people.  The real people knew enough to stay out of his way.  After about the third time a "Nanny" had tried to show him a human baby in her carriage, the program had decided he didn't want to see the disgustingly soft humans after all, and stopped sending them over.  It seemed that every time one came along, he'd take one look at it, and it at him, and the baby would start emitting a loud howl.  The Nannies would fuss over the infant for a while, and then hurry off, glaring at him as if it were his fault.  How could it have been his fault? All he did was look!

            Now the program was attempting to find other ways to entertain him.  If it had been a Klingon program, it would have sent a worthy advisory, or a bunch of warriors to drink with.  Instead, it sent some white faced, black clothed fellow who couldn't talk.  He looked like he was trapped in a force field box. A mime, the humans called it an artistic form. Ke'reth thought about killing it, but decided at the last minute that a mime was a terrible thing to waste.  He let it continue; at least it didn't make noise. 

            The children had run from him as soon as they had entered the holodeck.  They had gone straight for the callisthenic equipment.  There were bars to climb over. B'Sel's oldest, Rhahl, swarmed over them easily.  There were also some long planks that tilted in the middle.  K'regh, B'Sel's middle child, was training on one.  By pushing down on one end, it forced K'regh to go up, while a human child on the other end came back down.  The Human would then push down, sending himself up and the K'regh down.  They seemed to want to repeat this action over and over.  As exercise, Ke'reth figured K'regh was working on his leg muscles.  

            The child that bothered Ke'reth the most was KharIS, B'sel's youngest.  Instead of training on the equipment, she seemed to be digging in some sand.  She would build a mound of sand, and then push it over.  Or a tunnel, which she would evaluate, then collapse.  At the moment, she seemed to be building a fortification. Ke'reth could see several mistakes from where he sat.  He decided a little instruction couldn't hurt.

            Ke'reth got up and walked over to KharIS.  His feet sank into the soft sand as he approached.  Squatting down to KharIS's level, he said, "The turret you are working on is too tall and thin to withstand a disrupter blast."

            KharIS looked up at the old warrior and said, "That is where the princess lives.  She was imprisoned there by an evil shaman.  A great warrior will soon come to rescue her."

            "You mean like in the story of Kar'as and Ben'etha?"

            "Yes, I guess." The small Klingon child sounded unsure.

            "Well, in that story, the tower was much lower and larger.  It was part of a huge fortress, and Kar'as had to kill 50 warriors on his way through the main hall.  I know, I visited the fortress near the oka'dan forest once to go hunting.  I remember well the hunt that day…" Ke'reth noticed that he had lost KharIS's attention.  She had turned away from the sand castle and was digging a rut from it to a tunnel she had made earlier. "What are you doing now?" he asked.

            "I'm making the road to the dragon's den that the warrior must travel to fight the dragon." 

            "A dragon?"

            "A giant lizard that breathes fire."

            "There is no dragon in the tale of Kar'as and Ben'etha."

            "There is now."  KharIS said with certainty.

            "No, I'm sure you are mistaken.  He did have an honor duel with K'end, but that was much later, and it was in the high council arena." 

            "That's not the way this story goes." She said.  "The hero fights a dragon controlled by the evil shaman."

            Ke'reth had just about decided that he needed to do something about this dangerous human undermining of ancient Klingon stories, when he was suddenly hit from behind.  As he had been crouching down to KharIS's level when he was hit, he lost his balance and fell face first into the sand castle.  Spitting sand out of his mouth, he was up in an instant, looking through gritty eyes for who attacked him.  On the ground was a small human child, no more than 6 or 7 standard years old, and a plastic disk.  The child looked up at the fierce Klingon Ambassador, and started to cry.

            At the sound of the pitiful creatures wail, all of the human females reacted by closing in on Ke'reth.  He was quickly outnumbered by angry women.  He judged that he could take them if he had too, but it would be bad politics.  One extremely angry woman now held the child that had bumped into him.  She gave him a very threatening look.  Ke'rath decided to try his diplomacy and bent down to reassure the child, which only began to wail louder.

            "Can't you see you are only frightening the child worse, Klingon?" an angry mother said.

            "Yeah, why don't you leave the poor kid alone?" another added.

            This was defiantly getting out of hand.  Ke'reth decided to strategically withdraw.  He grabbed KharIS and called out to the boys, "Rhahl, K'regh, come, play time is over!"

            "Captain T'Pina! I must protest!" Quek said angrily.  "There are Romulans swarming all over this station and that bully Klingon security guard of yours refuses to do anything about it!"

            T'Pina looked at the Ferengi with a raised eyebrow.  He stood in the doorway to her office and shook with rage.  While he might have meant to look fierce, T'Pina guessed that the feeling most human's would have felt was humor at the sight.

            "Ambassador Quek, may I remind you that the Federation has recently started negotiations with the Romulans, and as part of those negotiations, the Romulans are permitted an embassy here on the starbase.  Also, I hardly believe that the current staffing level of that embassy indicates a swarm.  I will however recommend that you take up any concerns you may have about his staff with Ambassador K'Hellenbek."

            Quek's face turned even redder.  "Do you mean that you aren't going to kick them off of the station?"  

            "I have neither the power, nor the desire, to, _kick them off_, of this station.  I have no authority to dictate who has embassies here or not. That is best decided at the Federation Council."

"I demand to see Commodore Jat!"

"She is not on the station at the moment."

            "Where is she then?"

            "I'm sorry, but I can't disclose that information at this time."

            "When will she be back?"

            "Once again, I'm sorry…"

            "I know, you can't disclose that information!  Is there anything you can tell me?"

            "Yes ambassador, good day."

            Ambassador K'Hellenbek looked over his new staff's résumé's.  He knew that the Tal'shiar operatives were there somewhere, but as with any secret spy agency, they made the fakes look as good, or better, than the real one's.  Well, he thought, I'll just have to pretend that they are all Tal'shiar and avoid any mistakes.  At least I've got Nerrad, though I must also keep him in the dark.  At least I believe he's not Tal'shiar.  He would be discovered too quickly.

            K'Hellenbek did know something for sure.  His reports on Federation and Klingon ship movement were being intercepted, or copied, before they reached Romulus.  He had overheard the Federation personnel on the promenade complaining about the pirate's intelligence.  Upon checking his information sources, it seemed that the pirates knew everything that K'Hellenbek reported.

            K'Hellenbek considered this.  He could stop sending the reports, but then Romulus would complain.  The intelligence committees were devouring everything K'Hellenbek could send them.  Tal'shiar might decide he needed to be replaced.  He couldn't tell the Federation personnel, they would want to know how he had gotten the information, and his sources were less likely to want to be acknowledged.

            Where was the leak?  If they could intercept the ship movement information, how much else could they obtain?  These questions, and more, worried the Romulan Ambassador.  He, at least, wanted there to be peace between the Empire and the Federation.  The Romulan Empire didn't need it's resources strained anymore than they already were. At a minimum, they needed time to rebuild and restock the fleet.  A short time of peace in the Romulan Empire would be a good thing.

            Deep in the bowels of the Guardian class space station, near the communications array, a figure moved in the shadows.  A hand reached up into a conduit and pulled out a small device.  The figure held the device near another for a few seconds, then replaced the first one back where it had gotten it.  The figure melted back into the shadows unseen.

            On the U.S.S. Sacagawea, Balor of Tanis IV had just finished his duty shift and was headed back to his compartment.  Chief Engineer Saryena Remora waved to him as he left.

            "Care for a cup before we call it a night" Remora asked.

            "Ah, no thank you." Balor replied.  "I have some more manuals I need to study before I go to sleep.  This ship is very complicated."

            "Oh, I've worked on worse.  I admire your dedication. I wish we had more like you onboard.  We've got some real losers working with us, but I guess it's all the captain can hire out here."

            "Ah, yes, I guess you are right."

            "You're not like the rest, are you.  You come to work on time and don't complain.  Your understanding of warp technology is far beyond the rest of the staff.  If I may ask, why are you out here?  Isn't Tanis IV pretty far away from this neck of the galaxy?"

            "I, uh, wanted to see the universe.  I couldn't do that where I was, so I came out here.  It's been a long road."  Balor looked embarrassed.  "Uh, I don't mean to be rude Chief Engineer, but may I go now?"

            "Sure, sure.  I was just curious.  If there's anything you need, just ask."

            "Ah, sure thing Chief Engineer.  Good night."

            Balor reached his quarters with no further interruptions.  Once there, he picked up a holo-picture of a humanoid woman and a little girl.  He looked at it for sometime before he put it away in his travel case.  Then he took out a small instrument from his travel case and pressed the button on the face.  A small light began to blink.  Regretfully, Balor placed the instrument back in the bag with the picture, and closed it.

            "I really like these people, Andrea.  I wish things could be different."

            Balor closed his eyes and drifted off to a fitful rest.


	18. Part 18 Results

            The Adventure Continues…  Part 18

            Out in the depths of space, the U.S.S. Dark Star floated in darkness.  It had no navigation lights and the light of distant suns gave off almost no reflection.  It's warp nacelles were shielded and it had no windows.  It was as undetectable to the naked eye as it was to most sensors. 

            Inside the stealth ship, Commodore Anarita Jat sat in the darkness and waited.  For the moment, she was alone.  All of the holo-crew had been deactivated to increase the stealth ability.  The computer was her only companion, and it just listened to it's sensors.

            In the darkness of space, Anarita was turning philosophical.  In all of her lives, it seemed, most of the time she was waiting.  Waiting for a spouse to return home. Waiting for a child to be born. Waiting for battle. Waiting for death to appear.  So many of her friends had passed away during the years.  She could even remember her own deaths.

Joined Trill accepted the death of their hosts, and celebrated their lives.  Their memories continued to live on within their new host, thus forming a kind of immortality, or at least a longer life.  New adventure and new friends.  New families and new responsibilities.  But at times like this, when there was nothing to do but wait, Jat reflected not on her fellow Trill, but on her alien friends.

            While the Trill had been space farers for centuries, they had only recently made their presence known to outsiders.  They often insinuated themselves into alien cultures in order to safe guard the location of their home star system from discovery.  The incursion was as exciting as it could be lonely.  The Trill loved the variety that humanoid life spawned.  All of those different cultures and planets, with so many new foods, sounds and feelings.

            Then along came the Humans and their United Federation of Planets.  For the first time, the Trill decided to come out of hiding. Here was a chance to explore the galaxy out in the open, with friends beside you who wanted to do the same.  And by joining the Federation, the Trill ensured the safeguarding of their planet by joining with something larger than themselves.

            But, oh these aliens had such short lives.  Even the Vulcans only lived at most 200 some odd standard years before they died.  So many lives, so little time together.  She was tempted to activate the Curzon holo-charactor.  He had been one of the most watched aliens.  He was the first to discover the Trill home planet, and not manage to get himself, or the Trill, killed off doing it.  Many Trill were assigned to him though, watching him the rest of his life.  Jat, and another Trill named Dax, had been near him when he died in battle.  Now there was a warrior's warrior!

            Some of the other holo-charactors on the Dark Star haunted Jat's memories.  Chris Pike, her navigator and one time lover, had gone on to become a famous starship captain.  K'lorox, her ship's navigator, had gone on to conquer a whole star system before he was killed in his sleep by an assassin.  That hunt had taken Jat over a year to complete, but it was worth K'lorox's honor.  Even short Blaylock, of the lost First Federation and her current sensor holo-operator, had eventually succumbed to time and death.  All of them gone now and only her memories left to say they were ever there, that they had ever existed at all.

            Jat reflected on her current friends.  T'Pina was ill.  She hid it well, but Jat could tell she needed more treatments.  Even with them, how much longer would she live?  The General seemed determined to die in a glorious battle, and if possible, take as many enemies with him as he could.  And all of the youngsters on Starbase 410, they would all grow older before her eyes.  Immortality had it's draw backs, Jat thought.

            Suddenly, the quiet was interrupted by a beeping sound.  On the sensor console, a light flashed.  At last, Jat thought, the game is a foot!

            The U.S.S. Sacagawea shook from disrupter fire, the deck tilting at a weird angle.  Crew scrambled for their consoles.

"Attention alien vessel, surrender and prepare to be boarded.  Failure to comply will result in your immediate destruction."

            "Like heck I will!" Madia shouted.  "Mr. Starr, come about! Take evasive action! Mr. Borda, try to angle our primary shields to keep them between the fighters and our primary hull.  And everyone take sensor readings, we need to know as much as we can about these assailants!  Captain to Engineering, prepare to implement plan Alpha."

            S'ena looked up from the comm. console and asked, "Should I send them a reply captain?"

            "No, I'll do it my self.  Mr. Starr, fire full phasers at any ship which gets near us.  That should tell them what I need to say.  S'ena, I want you to issue a distress signal on all channels."

            At the ship's helm, Brian Starr slipped into the "One".  Filtering out all distractions, time seemed to expand.  His fingers sped over the console, sending the ship in a new direction every few seconds.  As a fighter bore down on them for attack, he lightly touched the phaser firing button.  A beam of pure energy, phased light, reached out and kissed the enemy fighter, which blossomed in to a ball of light.  Brian quickly changed direction.

            Madia Amme looked at the science station.  John Borda looked back at her.  "That shouldn't have blown them up." John said  "The phasers barely penetrated their shields."

            Madia jumped from her chair to the science station, vaulting the rail.  "Let me see the data!"  She peered into the old style viewer and said. "I agree.  It seems as if the fighter blew itself up.  How odd."

            The deck tilted sharply underneath them again.  Another fighter blew up.  At the helm, Brian Starr looked lost in thought as his hands flashed over the buttons.  On the main screen, the stars were doing strange dances as another fighter turned into a fire blossom.

"Captain," John said, "The fighters are being joined by three more medium size ships and I detect a larger vessel approaching."

"I can win this." Brian said from far away in thought as he once again blew up an enemy fighter. "They only attack in ones and twos.  The rest are trying to surround us.  While quite coordinated, it gives us the chance to maneuver…" a ship disappeared in a flash of light, "and pick them off one by one.  As long as they don't all attack in mass…"

            "Mr. Starr, remember, we are not supposed to win this fight.  We need to be captured alive.  Don't make them any madder than they need to be, just put up a decent fight before we surrender.  Mr. Starr…Brian."

            But Brian was deep in the "One" and determined to win.

            "S'ena," Madia said, "I suggest you return to our quarters and take up your position." Madia looked at the frightened girl.  She was scared, but held up calmly.  "Good luck."

            "You to Madia."  S'ena turned and entered the turbo lift.

            Madia calmly strode over to Brian and hit him as hard as she could.  The blow took him by surprise, even though he was in the "One".  His unconscious body hit the floor.  Madia shook her hand as she moved over to the comm. console and did one of the hardest things she had ever had to do in her life.

            "Attention alien attackers," she said, "Our helm officer got a little brave, but he has now been relieved of his duty.  I will now surrender my ship. All I ask is that you spare my crew."

            "Mr. Borda, lower the shields please."

            In the midst of the fighting, no one noticed the U.S.S. Dark Star as it approached.  It's sensors recorded the entire battle, marking down ship sizes and registries.

            Quip, the Ferengi at the comm. console looked up at Jat.  "The Sacagawea has announced her surrender, Commodore."

            "Good, I thought Madia was going to win this one for a minute.  Mr. Pike prepare to…"

            The Dark Star shook with a vengeance.  Sparks flew from the consoles and the holo-crew blinked out of existence.  Jat could hear the sound of escaping air and smell the tang of scorched wires.  Emergency lights came on and displayed the mess that was once her ship.  In the ever-thinning air, Jat could hear the computer's recorded voice announce, "Abandon ship, repeat, abandon ship.  Total loss of life support and power imminent."

            "Captain K'iHqas," the Comm. officer exclaimed, "A distress signal from the Federation trader we have been following!"

            "At last! Helm! Get us there yesterday!" K'iHqas could feel her Bird-of-Prey leap to warp.  Around her, the young warriors checked their stations in preparation for the coming battle.  K'iHqas had worked them hard in the last few weeks since she had taken command of the new ship and crew.  While they were all new recruits, just fresh from the Klingon Academy, she knew they would follow her orders with precision, unto death.  

            K'iHqas opened her ship wide intercom.  "This is your captain speaking.  We are about to engage our first enemy in this ship.  While they are only pirates, one should never underestimate any opponent.  They will try to use unconventional means, but eventually, they will fall to our might, for we are Klingon Warriors and the Empire demands it.  Qapla'!"

            But when the warship arrived at the coordinates, all they found was debris.

            Everyone on the Sacagawea was quickly rounded up and beamed off of the ship.  They were striped and scanned, then given dirty jumpsuits to wear.  All of the crew, except S'ena, found themselves in a large cargo hold in an alien ship.  Brian Starr slept in a corner. On either end of the hold stood hatches, one large for cargo and the other smaller, which they had entered through, for personnel.  Soon after they arrived, the personnel hatch opened, and red skinned guards took Balor of Tanis IV away.

            After an hour or so, some guards came in and asked, "Which one of you was the captain?"

            John Borda stepped forward. "Who wants to know?"

            The guard who had spoken aimed his rifle at John.  "I do slave.  Tell me before I make an example of you."

            "Stand down, Mr. Borda, that's an order!" Madia said.  "Everyone, your orders are to survive, and survival means co-operation at the moment."  She turned to the guard.  "I was the captain of the Sacagawea."

            "Fine, you will come with us now.  Any funny business, and you will regret it."

The guard said to the rest, "Listen, we do not coddle people here.  As of now you are all property to be used, and disposed of, as we feel fit.  After we leave here, you will have three minutes before this door opens again.  Outside of it, you will see a corridor.  Move along that corridor to a T intersection.  Along the crossing hallway will be cells, some of which are already occupied.  We desire 4 individuals per cell, no more, no less.  You will have five minutes to accomplish this task."

            "Or what?" Saryena Remora asked.

            The guard looked at her.  "Or you will learn to breath vacuum."

            With that, they left the hold, taking Madia with them.  

John rushed over to Brian's unconscious form and shook him.  "Brian, Brian, wake up!" He looked at Jeanette and Saryena,  "I guess Madia hit him harder than she thought.  We'll have to carry him."

"Look, the four of us have got to try to stick together." Jeanette said.

"That's easier said than done," Saryena said, looking at the rest of the crew.  "That bunch is going to bolt for the first cell they can reach, then fight over it until they all asphyxiate."

Indeed, the workers they had been forced to hire looked desperate and panicked.  They clustered near the hatch.  Scum of the universe that they were, they were still innocent parties to the plan devised by Commodore Jat.  

"We're responsible for them being here."  Saryena said. "We need to do something." 

"You're right." Jeanette stood up and approached the mob. "In less than two minutes that hatch will open and we'll have to work together to survive.  I want all of you to divide into groups of four and line up.  When the hatch opens we'll all calmly move down the hallway to the intersection."

"We're not working for you any more!"

"Yeah, look where you got us!"

"Who put you in charge!"

"I say, everyman for himself!" One particularly large cargo handler said.

Jeanette looked at the man.  He easily stood over her and out massed her.  Fighting him would not be easy, and would take up time that could get them all killed.  Turning her attention to the rest of the crew, she said calmly. "If we work together, we'll all survive. If we panic, we'll all die.  You decide right now, live or die." She let her words sink in.  "Those who want to live will group in fours in a line, now!" She said in her best command voice.

Jeanette, with Saryena's help, began to form the crew into lines, grabbing some and moving them into place.  "The first group will walk to the intersection and turn right, take the first cell on the right.  The second group will turn left, and take the first cell to their right.  The third group will turn right and take the left cell. The fourth group will turn left and take the first left cell.  If there is already someone in the cell, then move on to the next cell.  Does everyone understand the plan?"

The big bruiser looked like he might put up a fight, but the rest of the crew started to line up in order.  They were used to being pushed around for the most part, and responded to Jeanette's air of authority.  

"This isn't over between us." The large cargo handler told Jeanette as he moved to the front of the line.

"What about him?" One crewman asked pointing towards Brian.

Jeanette looked over towards Brian, who with John's help, was just now waking up.  She turned back to the crewman.  "I'll make sure he's taken care of, you just watch over your three group mates.  Remember what the captain said, survival is our number one priority now and to do that we need to work together."

The hatch opened with a whoosh of air escaping the hold, as if to remind them of the power held over them by their captors.  The first group, lead by the cargo handler, ran out.

"Follow them calmly!  We have time to make it!" Jeanette and Saryena shouted.  "Don't push or shove!  Remain calm!"

John and Brian staggered up to the end of the line, John helping Brian stand.  After everyone else had left, Jeanette and Saryena joined them, and headed down the hall.  The group ahead of them had turned left, so the four Starfleeters turned right.  Ahead of them, a group was interring a door three cells down on the left.  When they got to the fourth cell door on the right, they could tell it was already occupied by two aliens.

"Brian can't go any farther.  I'll stay with him while you two go to the next cell." John said.

"We should try to stick together." Jeanette replied.

"Look, the cell across from here has two people in it also.  We need to split up.  It's our only chance!" Saryena said.

As if to emphasize her words, the air began to flow past them and the cell doors began to close.  Saryena grabbed Jeanette and pulled her into the opposite cell while John shoved Brian into their cell.  

"Good luck!" Jeanette shouted to John as she went through the closing cell door.

"You too!" He answered to the now shut door. 

Major Madia Amme of the Bajorian Militia had known her share of tight situations before during her career in the resistance, and she figured this one was no different.  All she had to do was keep her wits about her, and soon an opportunity would present itself.  Even now, as she walked down the corridor between the guards, she calculated the chances of grabbing one guard's pistol, while shoving the other guard against the wall with a high kick.  With a little luck, maybe she could get away with it, but then what?  Alone on an alien ship, even armed, with no idea where to find the communications room.  And no doubt every guard on the ship would be searching for her with orders to shoot first and ask questions later.  No, she decided to play this hand out and see where it took her.  She could always commit suicide against the guards later.

This hand apparently was taking her to a large and well-appointed room, where a party was ensuing.  The guards stopped just inside the door to the smoke filled room, and prevented her from preceding any further.  Madia looked around the room, noting exits and people.  Most of the partiers were sitting on cushins or pillows layed out on the ornate carpets arraigned in a semicircle around the sides of the room.  In the center stood a large bowl filled with a fire, though it did not appear to be the source of the smoke.  The partiers were smoking from tubes hooked up to a strange jar placed every few feet along the carpets.  It was these jars, and the smokers, that emitted the smoke.  They were all dressed in robes and turbans, representing most of the alien races of the alpha quadrant.  Though some she didn't recognize, she did see a Cardasion or two.  At sight of them, her blood began to boil.  A small voice in her head, sounding much like a cross between her mother and Commodore Jat, told her to remain calm, it was her only chance to survive.

Most of the aliens appeared to be of one race, either ruddy or greenish.  She knew who they were, the Orions.  One reddish Orion, in a particularly large ornate wig, bejeweled and ribboned, approached her. 

"Ah, you must be the captain of the Sacagawea," He said politely as he held out his hand.  

Madia shook it, and tried not to wince from the pain in her hand.  She must have hit Brian harder than she had intended. Focus, she thought to herself.

"And you are…?" She asked.

"Your host at the moment. Oh, where are my manners? Come sit down."  The man proceeded to sit down on some garish pillows.  He patted the pillow next to him.  "Sit, sit, we must talk."

When Madia hesitated, he added menacingly, "That was a suggestion.  Do not make me make it an order."

Madia moved over and sat down gracefully next to him.  Information was what she needed the most now, she thought.

"You'll pardon me if I'm a little standoffish?  I don't even know your name."

"Oh, yes, we haven't been formally introduced yet have we?  Well, as there is no one else who can perform the correct ritual, we shall have to do it ourselves.  You may call me…" The Orion looked up at the ceiling in thought, "Yarda.  Yes, Yarda sounds fine."

The Orion stood up and announced to the room, "Tonight my dear friends, my name is Yarda."  The rest of the room applauded Yarda's announcement like a great feat, except for the Cardasions, who looked annoyed.

Returning to the floor, Yarda said, "And you my dear?  What is your name?"

"Madia of Bajor."

"Ah, Madia, it is so nice to meet you.  Tell me, how do you like our little party so far?  Care for a drink?"  Yarda handed her a glass filled with a glowing liquid, which he had taken from a scantily clad slave standing behind them. "Perhaps you would care for a toke of our fine smoke.  Oooh, a rhyme, a toke of our smoke."

Several of the guests nearby laughed at Yarda's joke.

"Ah, no thank you." Madia replied.  "May I ask, is this how you treat all of your, shall I say, guests?"

"Oh, no! Most of them, like your crew, are sold here into slavery.  All of these fine people are here to buy the resources I acquired from your ship.  Even now, they are wondering if you will be placed on the auction block and for how much, or even if the cost will be worth it.  It is well known that your people tend to cause trouble when made slaves, but if broken, work very hard."

"Tell me then, Yarda, am I going to be put on the block?"

"Well, normally, yes, I must say, but for some reason, I haven't made up my mind about you just yet.  You see, we found something in your cabin that suggested that you might join us instead of being wasted in the slave pits."  Yarda clapped his hands.

Across the room, a door opened and two guards entered dragging a kicking, screaming, green girl dressed in veils.  Madia immediately recognized S'ena.  She tried to hide her surprise, but Yarda was looking at her.

"Ah, I see you remember your former pet.  I wonder how, or why, you came into possession of her.  You must tell me sometime.  But right now, I want to see her dance.  She will not perform for me, so I want you to make her.  Now."

The last was not up for debate.  Madia stood up slowly, and walked over to S'ena.  "Calm down little one." She said placing a hand along S'ena's cheek. 

S'ena looked up at Madia, anger and fright in her eyes "You must dance for me now, or we both may die." Madia said.

S'ena nodded.

"You may release her now." Madia told the guards.

The guards looked at Yarda, who waved them away.

Madia turned and sat back down next to Yarda.

"Music!" Yarda called.

A harsh drumbeat began to sound in the room, though Madia couldn't see any musicians.  Horns joined in.  In the middle of the floor, near the fire, S'ena began to move in a serpentine sort of way.  Beads of sweat soon shown on her green skin as she danced around the room.

Madia wasn't watching the dancing S'ena though.  She was busy trying to remember everyone in the room, looking for clues as to why she was being treated so strangely.  Surely, she wasn't being treated this way just because S'ena had been in her quarters when they were captured.

Yarda was saying something to her.  "She is quite a specimen.  I wonder how she will fair with my other girls.  Perhaps I can get them to dance together.  It is rare, but it has been done.  Oh, what a marvelous display that would be!"

"Madia, I know you are wondering how you can join our organization.  I am sure that you can see the advantages.  You could even rise to become captain of a ship again someday.  All you have to do is give me the codes that will unlock your ship's computer."

At last the truth came out!  Madia and Saryena had planed a little sabotage aboard the Sacagawea.  They called it plan Alpha, and it locked down all commands on the ship.  Even Madia didn't know how to reverse the codes, only Saryena knew.  Without the codes, the ship was useless, dead in space.  Only life support remained active.  Sure, with time the computer could be compromised, and or replaced, but Madia had thought that the pirates wouldn't want to keep the old ex-federation survey vessel that long, or invest the Latinum into it. Their success depended on a high turnover rate.  They didn't want to get caught with the goods!

"I hope you understand, I need to think about this for a while." Madia stalled.

"What is there to think about? Life as a crewman aboard one of my vessels, or life as a slave!" Yarda began to grow angry.

"But you must understand that those codes are the only thing keeping me from becoming a slave, and I do have my crew to think about." Madia said.

"I suggest you forget about your crew and think about yourself!"  Yarda jumped up.  "Enough! Take them both away!  They displease me!"

Guards came in from nowhere and grabbed Madia and S'ena.  As they proceeded to haul them both away in opposite directions, the two looked at each other for what might be the last time.

The last place S'ena had expected to be taken to when she was captured was a party, especially one where Madia was an honored guest!  Could Madia have betrayed them all?

No! That was the first thing they were taught at the academy.  Keep faith with your fellows.  Even if Madia wasn't a Starfleet Academy graduate, she was a soldier and knew the rules.  Their captors must have been trying to use her as leverage over Madia.  They wanted something from Madia, and had shown her S'ena as a way to get it.  S'ena hoped Madia hadn't given in and given them what ever they had wanted.  Hadn't the guards dragged them both off?

S'ena didn't have to pretend docility when the guards took her away from the party.  She was bone tired from the dancing.  She had been scared at first, moving jerkily to the drums.  But quickly, some part of her recognized the primitive beating as a theme, and her body had moved unconsciously to the music.  Soon, S'ena had been totally caught up in the movements, twirling and jumping as if she were a mindless toy caught up in a tornado.  She had known the crowd was watching her every move, and between the intoxicants in the air, and the pheromones of herself and the watchers, she had become drunk with the joy of movement.  She had lost herself to the moment and it worried her.

Was this how normal Orion women reacted to the ancient, primitive, sounds?  Her father had been a green Orion, and her mother had been human, so she had no real clue about the females of her half heritage, other than the stories people told. Most were filled with their animalistic behavior.  None of the stories had prepared her for the feelings that had overcome her when she had danced.

The guards finally brought her to a door.  The door opened into a large carpeted room full of torn cushions and ripped pillows.  Drapes hung in taters against the walls.  The guards threw her into the room and she landed on the soft pillows.  Quickly, she turned towards the door, but it was already closed.  Behind her, she heard a hiss.

S'ena jumped up into a fighting crouch.  Appearing before her, out of the drapes, were three other green Orion women.  While each looked threateningly at her, one in particular, looked vicious.  She cowed the other two and moved towards S'ena.

"Well, the master has a new plaything I see.  Well, you won't replace me!  I'll tear your pretty little face up into shreds.  We'll see how the master like his new toy then, won't we."  The large woman moved towards S'ena.

"I don't want any trouble." S'ena said.  "Can't we just get along like sisters?"

"I killed my sisters when I was 5 years old." The woman replied.

"Well, that's not exactly what I had in mind." S'ena said.  "Why don't we all sit around and do each other's toenails while we sing cumbiya?"

"Oh, the little bird wants to sing does she?  I'll teach her a song."

S'ena could see that the three women must be all constantly vying for dominance over each other.  The woman confronting her must be the alpha female, trying to put S'ena in her place.  S'ena thought, I can either be her slave, or her master.  There was no other way.  Enough! If I'm going to have to play this role, I'm going to be the lead slave!

The other woman moved threateningly towards S'ena.  S'ena was still tired from the dancing, but this was a battle she had to win, or she would regret it later.  She closed with her and faked a right punch.  As the woman reached up to block the punch, S'ena whirled around to deliver a kick to her stomach.  The woman went down, but was up in a moment.  

Meanwhile, the other two had circled around S'ena and now jumped her.  S'ena took the shock of the first, rolled with her, and used her legs to launch the girl across the room.  The remaining woman leapt upon S'ena, using her hands as claws.  S'ena did all she could to hold off the reaching fingernails, which looked sharp as blades.  She knew that if she stayed like this, the animal woman would overcome her sooner or later.

Just then, the first woman pulled S'ena's assailant off of her.  "She's mine!"

The break gave S'ena just the chance she needed to climb back up on her feet before the first woman came at her again.  The woman fought like a crazed animal, with no coordination or plan.  S'ena easily kept her at bay with her Starfleet training, moving around, tossing her like a kitten when she attacked.  Soon, before S'ena's strength gave out, she placed a well-aimed blow to the back of the woman's neck.  She fell like a ton of bricks.

It didn't take S'ena long to subdue the other two, tying them all up in torn drapes.  As the first started to come around, S'ena began what was sure to be a long and tiring chore.

"Now ladies, we are going to learn to get along, and that first starts with manners."  The Orion women glared at her.


	19. Part 19

The Adventure Continues…. Part 19

            The Klingon in Starbase 410's Security office was sitting quite still.  Behind the desk of the Station Security Chief, Lt. Commander K'SQqwa SuDs'qan'ya, was lost in thought.  His normally fierce countenance was oddly composed.   Had anyone appeared at his doorway, they would have been surprised to see him so relaxed.  But he was far from it.  Behind his ridged brow, thought processes usually filled with paranoia and violence were grasping to put together an obscure mental puzzle.  

He had only some of the pieces to the jigsaw and could discern no overall picture yet.  Someone or something had been rifling the station's astrometric files at a pace unmatched by anything other than a ships' computer, but file records indicated that the information was not leaving the station.  None of the ships in hangers were receiving the information either.  It seemed as if the station computer itself was bored and wanted to read the information.

Was this linked some how to the leaked ship information?  Some how the pirates who were raiding in the area of space known as the Triangle knew all of the station's star ship positions and routes.  General K'batlh had already stopped sending in his reports on ship movements.  He had decided the station security was too lax.  Something to do with the federation training pacifying the Klingon security chief.  The information oozing out of the station was a smear on K'Sqqwa's honor. He had to find out who was doing it and stop them.

But then, for no reason, the opening and closing of astrometric files had stopped.  Had the thief found what they were looking for?  Or had K'Sqqwa's investigations gotten too close?  

"AAAH! This is driving me mad!  I have, perhaps, been thinking on this too long."  K'SQqwa rose from his desk and headed for the promenade.  "A breath of fresh air and a qa'vIn will clear my head." He said as he left his office.

In deed, as he left the Security office complex behind and started to mingle with the other pedestrians in the more frequented portions of the station, he felt better.  Though he still scanned the crowds for problems, they were mundane problems that he knew his men could handle, not at all like the security issues he had to contend with.  K'SQqwa began to hope for a little fight to break out, just so he could legitimately bash some heads in, proving he was alive.  Bashing heads in wouldn't help him with his current problems though. 

Nearing an acceptable Klingon establishment, K'SQqwa entered.  He ordered a Klingon coffee, and found a chair at a table.  While he was waiting, he noticed two other Starfleet personnel enter.

"I heard this place offered authentic Klingon food."  Lt. Laura-Jean Morris said.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Ensign Laura Shepherd asked.

"Have you gotten cold feet on our quest?"

"No way! But remember the Vulcan place? The food was soooo boring!"

"But the Ferengi place had good food."

"It had better have been good at the prices they were charging!" 

"Come on, where is your adventure?  Our mission is to sample some of every culture's food stuffs in order to broaden our palette."

"But not our waist!  I know.  But all it has done so far is make me appreciate human food more."

"Well, today is Klingon day.  Do you see a table?"

As if K'SQqwa had stood up and yelled for them, they looked right at his spot.  Realizing that most of the patrons were Klingons, his Starfleet uniform must have stood out like a beacon.  Resigned to his fate, K'SQqwa waved them to join him.

"K'SQqwa, we see so little of you any more.  How have you been?" Morris asked.

K'SQqwa realized that humans often asked these little questions as a way of being polite, not always showing an interest in one's actual condition, so he grunted, "I have been busy."

"Oh. I see." Morris answered back, though it was clear that she did not.

Shepherd had picked up the menu and was perusing it.  "We have a rare opportunity here before us Laura."

"What do you mean, Laura?" Morris loved this little game they played.

"Well, here we are in a Klingon deli, and our table mate is a Klingon.  Where we would just order anything we thought we could pronounce, without knowing if it would taste good, or be authentic, K'SQqwa here could order for us, thus ensuring a true Klingon meal just like they eat back home."

"Oh, yes, K'SQqwa, please, order for us."

K'SQqwa looked at the two human women.  He had understood their request, but did they really mean it?  "Do either of you have duty soon?" He asked.  Klingon food sometimes had poor effects on human digestive tracts.

"Oh, we both just got off shift." Morris said.  "Three is handling everything right now."

"In that case, I will oblige you and join you."  K'SQqwa turned in his chair towards the bar, "Waiter, three wornagh, now!"  Turning back to the humans, K'SQqwa considered their self imposed mission.  Most humans he had met had very little stomach for real Klingon cuisine.  They thought that eating live food was, unpleasant.  He wondered how far they would go.

The waiter arrived with the Klingon ale, and K'SQqwa decided to find out.  "Bring us an order of qagh, fresh mind you! Go!" K'SQqwa told the waiter.  To the Lauras he said, "They really do have good qagh here.  The owner grows them himself and has bred them to have a slight sour, vinegar like, taste.  He feeds them only the blood of mavje' targ, and serves them in a sweet sauce."  K'SQqwa hunched over, as if to share a secret. "Now, when the bowl arrives, I do not want you to embarrass yourselves by eating it like a human.  I want you to grab the qagh with your hands and shove it into your mouths.  To eat Klingon food properly, you must eat it like a Klingon.  The sauce is toxic to the qagh, and you must eat them quickly.  It is considered a dishonor to the preparer if the qagh dies before you eat all of them."

Shepherd looked at Morris and said in a weak voice, "Dies?"

"You wanted adventure." Morris reminded her.

Brian Starr woke to an alien face staring at him from 3 inches away. 

"Wakes he." The alien said.

"Yes, I'm awake.  Thank you." Brian stammered. "Can you tell me where I am?"

"Gets Friend.  Waits you." The large alien stood up…, and up…, and up.  He must have been over 8 foot tall at the least.

"Brian!" Brian heard John Borda's voice, but couldn't take his eyes off of the huge alien.

"Great, he wakes." Said another voice from across the room.  "Maybe we won't get spaced after all."

"Buroo I am and Lou this is."  The large alien indicated himself and then some furry rodent he slipped in and out of his pocket.  "They know not about Lou.  He secret weapon is."  He then stepped back as John came forward.

"How do you feel?" John said

"Disoriented. What happened?  Last thing I remember, we were on the ship fighting pirates…"

"Hissss, shut him up or we will all be killed."  A blue alien across the room said. 

"…And, now I'm here."

"Ignore Jartan for right now." John indicated the blue skinned alien, a Bolian.  "He's been acting paranoid since we got here.  Believe it or not, we are prisoners of the pirates." John told Brian.

"But I could have won that fight! What happened, and why does my head hurt?"

"The Major, I mean Captain Amme, knocked you out because you were going to win.  We wanted to lose, remember?"

"Oh, yes, now I remember.  I was in the "One" and fighting when she cold cocked me." Brian looked aside at John.  "Guess there are still some things I need to work on."

Then, in a more serious voice, Brian asked, "What's our situation?"

"We have been placed in individual cells with four occupants each.  The Captain and Balor of Tanis IV were separated from us early on. I guess we know who our traitor was now.  Anyway, Jeanette and Saryena are across the hall from us." John avoided saying anything about the one closest to Brian's heart, but Brian thought that was probably for he best.  "We are on a ship, I felt it go to warp shortly after we were brought aboard, and aside from one meal, we have been left alone."

As Brian tried to stand, John held him down.  "Rest, now.  The other two here tell me that soon, we will be tested and put to work."

"Tested?"

"Yes, the prisoners are used according to their talents.  All four of us here were officers on ships taken.  

At that moment they all heard a thump against the wall adjoining the next cell.  Jartan cried, "Oh, no! Now we are all going to be spaced!"

The fight in the next cell grew louder.  "Sounds like that big bruiser cargo handler we had trouble with has decided to take out his frustrations on his cell mates." John said.

"This good not." Buroo said.

"Good not? Not good?" Jartan said. "No, it will be the death of us all!"

"What do you mean?" Brian asked.

"Shhhh! Stay quiet.  Maybe they won't punish us as well."

There was a loud boom of decompression, at which Brian and John jumped to their feet.  They could feel the air pressure drop as their ears popped.

"We've taken a hit!" Brian said.

"Perhaps rescue has arrived." John said.

"No, look window out." Buroo announced.

Outside the window to space floated four bodies, at least one of which was the cargo handler.  All four were still as they slowly floated off into the depths of space.

Jartan spoke. "Humanoid life is cheap to obtain, but expensive to maintain.  Our captures will only keep what can earn its way.  That is why we must take the tests.  For all our sake, please be good at your assigned tasks.  Failure to comply with even the smallest of commands can result in all of us learning to breath vacuum." 

Anarita Jat was in trouble this time, and she knew it.  Unbelievable as it was, she sat in the most advanced spy ship the United Federation of Planets and Starfleet could dream up, and it was a hunk of space junk.  Every system had been taken out by a single phaser blast from a ship over one hundred years old, a ship she had ordered restored and put back into service one last time.  The irony did not escape her as she sat in her icy tomb.  Starfleet had calculated the odds of a single stray hit to her unsheilded ship, as long as it was undetected, as astronomical, well within safety limits.  As Jat looked out the window of her once sofisticated starship, she saw just how close astronomical was in the cold depths of space.  Mighty close!  The funny thing was, that in any other ship, the chances were that she would have been rescued by now.  Someone must have responded to the Sacagawea's distress call.

 Jat checked the air in her space suit, ten hours left.  She had long since purged all the air from the tanks aboard the Dark Star, and there were no other sources on board.  The entire ship was open to the vacume of space.  Only her space suit had kept her alive this long. 

Anarita had always known that someday she would die, but she had thought that she would live on in her symbiont, Jat.  It was a comfort to know she would, in some way, exist beyond her mortal years.  Now, she realized that both of them might very well die soon, and the prospect frightened Anarita.  The Jat portion of her self reminded her that it wasn't all that bad, and that they had done this before.  There were many ways to die, some of them quite pleasant.  How should she do it? Open her suit to the vacume?  Go out all at once? No, that was too much like surrender.  So was medication.  Turn off her suit heater and freeze to death?  Wait until her air ran out and die gasping like a fish? What would Curzon do?

No!  Thinking about death was the same as accepting it.  Curzon would go out fighting and so would Anarita Jat!  Jat rose from the command chair of her now dead ship and chose to find a way to live or die trying.  The ship was a loss, and everything she had or could use was in her space suit.  Time to leave her tomb, she decided.

Manualy unlocking the hatch, Jat stood on the outside of the Dark Star.  No light reflected off her darkened hull.  Unlike the stealth ship, Jat's space suit was standard Starfleet issue.  Included in the suit was a small sensor tricorder and a communications device.  Once clear of the ship, these now had a much better range, and began to relay their information to Jat.  The tricorder was picking up the active sensor readings of a ship, and the communicator was translating and passing on the faint sounds of Klingon transmissions.

To stay here was to die.  To go directly to the Klingon ship was to give away some of Starfleet's best stealth technology.  She couldn't stay, and she couldn't just go.  Jat checked her thruster fuel.  If she only had the time…


	20. Part 20 Trials

The Adventure Continues…. Part 20

"General K'batlh, I am sure the distress signal originated in this sector.  We have recovered debris of pirate fighters.  All I'm asking for is a little more time."

"Captain KiHQaS, I do not reward failure.  I will give you your time, but I want you to know that the longer you continue without results, the deeper the hole you are digging for yourself.  Am I understood?"

"Yes, my General! I will not fail you!"

"For your sake, you had better not! K'batlh out!"

KiHQaS' comm. screen went dark, then was replaced with a situation report.  It told her nothing new. For a week now, her and her crew had been sifting through all of the sensor data they could gather.  She didn't blame the crew, they had performed above and beyond what was expected of them, but they couldn't find the clue they needed to recover the Sacagawea and time was running out.

KiHQaS heard the sound of someone walking outside her quarters.  Not outside in the corridor, but on the ships hull.  "Bridge! Report! Why is someone space walking?"

"C-Captain! No one has left the ship!  Whoever it is, is headed for the port hatch!"

KiHQaS looked at her comm. monitor questioningly. "Then have security meet me at the port hatch. And put yourself on report for allowing whoever it is to approach the ship undetected! And scan for cloaked ships.  Whoever is out there didn't just walk here!"

            KiHQaS didn't wait for the young warrior's affirmation.  She ran out the door while checking the charge on her disrupter.  Perhaps this was the break she needed.

            Security was already there when she arrived. They held their weapons ready and aimed for the hatch. Good, she wouldn't have to flog them too, she thought.  The inner airlock hatch was starting to open.  KiHQaS could see into the airlock.  To her surprise, she saw a standard Federation space suit with thruster pack.  The figure reached up to release its helmet, which it then drew up over its head.  KiHQaS' was startled to see Commodore Anarita Jat!

            In a tired voice, Anarita asked, "Permission to come aboard?"

            In the Engineering section of the Sacagawea, Balor of Tanis IV was sweating.  He had tried everything he could think of to get the old ship working, but he could not get past the locked command codes.  Above him, he heard the sound that he had been dreading, laughter and footsteps on the catwalk.

            Balor's Orion master had taken to calling himself Yarda ever since they had taken the Sacagawea.  His high girlish laughter sent chills down Balor's spine.  Balor knew what Yarda wanted, and he also knew the price of failure, to him and to his family.

            "So, Balor, have we deciphered the codes yet?" Yarda asked him in a friendly manner. "When can I take my new prize for a test flight?"

            "Master, I humbly beg forgiveness, but the codes are still unbroken.  Perhaps I can have the assistance of the ship's original Chief Engineer?"

            Yarda's face contorted and his voice was anything but friendly.  "You imbecile!  I have to sell this ship as soon as possible, and to do that, it needs to be fully operational!"  In a frighteningly calm voice, he added, "Do you no longer care about the well being of your wife and daughter?  Some of the proceeds from the sale of this ship will go toward the purchase of more drugs for them.  The medicine is expensive and I don't run a charity you know."  Then Yarda became more thoughtful.  "Yes, perhaps you have tried your best, but these Federation types are just too clever.  Yes, you will have the assistance of the engineer," he said, "but under close supervision!"

Yarda began to leave the Engineering section, but turned back at the door.  "But Balor, this is your family's last chance. I want results!"

Brian Starr sat in the chair.  It was the same chair he had sat in yesterday, and by John Borda's description, it was the same chair he had sat in as well.  Before him was a console with a display and a single white button.  Like yesterday, this was another test.  A tiny speaker was emitting a beeping noise, which was getting faster and faster.  It suddenly became a whine and the screen changed color from green to red.  The button flashed red as well.  Brian just sat there staring at it.  He did not want to play their games.

Suddenly Brian felt agony spread through his whole being.  The pain was horrendous and all encompassing.  Brian almost blacked out before the pain stopped.

On the console before him was a green display and a white button.  The speaker emitted a beeping sound, which was getting faster and faster.   It became a steady tone and the screen flashed red again.  Brian slapped his palm down hard on the button.  Waves of pleasure coursed through Brian's aching body. 

It began again.  The beeping, the flashing, followed by the tone, and depending on how fast Brian hit the button, pleasure or pain.

Madia was slightly confused.  She had been housed in a small, modestly furnished apartment with a computer console filled with entertainment.  Most of the entertainment was garbage, but some classics were there.  Too bad she couldn't read Klingonese, she was sure the complete works of Shakespeare were in there somewhere.

In frustration, she banged her hands on the console again.  It was only allowed to show her entertainment, not where they were, or the layout of the ship, and certainly not the location of the "Push this to call for help" button.

The door to her apartment opened.  This had already happened at random times in the past.  In the doorway stood two guards, one of which said, "Come, you are summoned."  They escorted her to the large smoke filled room, where the party was still being held. The only real intelligence she had been able to gather came on her infrequent trips to the party.  It seemed that it was a 24 hour affair.   She wasn't expected to do anything there.  No one asked her questions, nor did they answer hers.  Soon, she started to mill about listening to conversations.  If she was noticed, she moved along.  Most of the conversations were pointless, the equivalent of "How is the weather?"  She avoided the Cardasions she saw.  No point in getting into fights, she thought.

Sometimes Yarda was there, and sometimes he wasn't.  He never spoke to her, but would glance her way and nod as if to say, "this could all be yours if you wanted to join us."  It was more than the locked codes to the U.S.S. Sacagawea.  He wanted her to be part of his pirate network.

Today, he was there, talking to some of his customers.  At sight of her, he concluded his conversation and stood up.  Crossing over to her, he said, "Greetings Madia.  I hope your accommodations have been comfortable."

"Yes, quite nice, though I do miss my pet.  Is there any chance I can see her alone sometime?"

"Ah, yes, your pet has been making herself useful.  Can you believe, she actually has tamed down my three pets.  Oh, you still can't trust them alone, but they are more subdued now than they ever have been before.  I would still like to know how you came about her, but even more so, how you trained her.  Perhaps, you can be my pet trainer.  There is quite the market for well trained slaves.  Oh, forgive me, what was I thinking!  You're Bajoran, of course you would know all about slave training.  Well, the offer still stands.  All you must do is give me the codes."

"Your offer does have some merit," Madia answered slowly, "But I would have to think about it."

"Do not take your time," Yarda said, "Soon, we will break the codes locking your old ship, and I will no longer have need of you, unless you have decided to join us."  With that, he turned away from her.  She had been dismissed.  The guards came up behind her.  Oh well, she thought, back to her cage.  She wondered how the rest of the crew were doing.

John Borda sat in the chair.  Before him was the console with the monitor, but this time the console had four buttons. He noticed that the buttons were in a diamond configuration.  Not unlike a pilot's thrusters he thought.  Sure enough, the monitor started to display a box like diagram with ever shrinking diagrams in the center, as if going off into infinity.  The boxes started to become bigger, as if John were moving down a corridor.  The inner most boxes swung to the right, appearing to go around a corner.  John reached up and tapped the button to the right.  The view skewed to the left and John felt immense pain.

The display started again.  Ok, John thought, backwards thrusters.  Once again the display turned to the right.  This time John tapped the left button.  The path of the display straightened out and turned the other way.  John corrected the direction he was going.  The path went up.  John tapped the bottom button.  

The testing went on for some time.  The path on the monitor sped up and twisted, every time getting harder to keep up with.  Sometimes, John felt his instructors messed with the path just to shock him.  After a while, the display went blank and the test was over.  John was tired and covered with sweat.  He was glad when the guards returned him to his cell.

S'ena was dancing again to the primitive drum beats.  Horns accompanied the drums, but all she could feel were the powerful drives within her to move, to dance.  She tumbled and jumped, she rubbed her hands over her body.  She twisted and jerked in an animalistic way, all in time to the music.  Her sentient thoughts were overcome by her desire to move with the music, to become one with it.  Suddenly, the music stopped.

S'ena found herself again.  As she became aware of her surroundings, she blushed.  She was in the party again.  People in the room were watching her.  She felt as if they were voyeurs, invading her private space.

The guards came to take her back to her pen.  Tired as she was, she could offer no resistance.  How long could she keep this up, she thought.  Already, her skin was starting to pale from the deep dark green it had been.  And the more she danced, the more she seemed to lose herself.  As if that were not enough, she constantly had to fight the other three Orion women to keep her dominance over them, though she had to admit, now it was mostly show and reinforcement.  If they couldn't respect her, at least they feared her.

She had no idea how the others were doing, except for Madia Amme, who she sometimes saw at the party.  She wondered how Brian and the rest were coping. Well, she would just have to figure out a way to save them all.

She focused on her main objective, how to find a way out of their current situation.  The only thing she had noticed so far was a guarded door along the path from the party to her holding pen.  Perhaps it held something she could sabotage.  The guards escorting her were always attentive to her, and never took their eyes off of her, but the ones at the door were often lax.  Guard duty in any service, was at best, boring.

At last, they arrived at her door.  She watched carefully out of the corner of her eye as the guard punched in the code to open it.  It was a different code every day, but she had decided that there was indeed a pattern.  Most guards were lazy, and only recalled codes that were easy to remember.  Also, she was an Orion slave girl, not noted for her intelligence.  All she needed now was an opportunity.

Jeanette Warren sat in the chair.  She'd been through several of the tests already, and knew the price of failure.  Only by figuring out what skill they wanted to impart before they started could she hope to avoid the fate of one of her other cell mates.  She had been an unknown alien species who conversed through commonly known historical references.  She would often say things like, "Shocka, when the walls fell," or other such drivel.  Of course neither Jeanette nor Saryena Remora shared any of those commonly known historical references, so they couldn't communicate with her.

She had returned from a testing session burned, dieing a few hours later.  No amount of shouting for the guards had brought relief.  When Jeanette and Saryena returned after their tests the next day, the body was gone.

Before Jeanette was the console.  This time it contained holes of every shape.  Above the console hung cables with different connectors.  "Oh great", she said, "square peg, round hole time."  Sure enough, a buzzer sounded and she could feel the pain begin.  "Ah", she said, "a timed event."  Jeanette quickly placed each connector to the correct hole by shape.  The pain stopped and she was rewarded with pleasure.

The holes in front of her changed, as well as the connectors.  This time, they were color coded.  One obvious problem was that some of them were colors she couldn't see.  The buzzer sounded, and Jeanette quickly plugged in the connectors she could see went where.  Then she had to try the rest in random order.  This time the pain got much worse than before.

Other variations followed.  She had to place them in order.  She had to place them faster.  She had to be able to figure out the connectors by feel, then sound they made when touched.  Then the combinations started.  By the time Jeanette was finished, she was exhausted.

Ambassador K'Hellenbek moved silently through the Jeffries tube connecting the hallway with the communications array.  Somewhere in here, he thought, was the connection where his reports were being hijacked.  The Federation encoded even the most trivial of its communications, so it had to be before that point.  Once again, he wished that he could have entrusted this mission to one of his aides, perhaps Nerrad, but no, he couldn't trust any of them with this.  Still, if he were caught, it would be bad.  Well, he thought, I'll just have to plan accordingly.

Now on the communications array deck, he quickly looked around.  One thing the Federation did like to do was place all of its blueprints in public domain files.  At least, that's what K'Hellenbek thought since the encryption was so easy to break.  He knew the spot he was looking for was just ahead.  But first he had to deactivate the security sensors.  When he accessed the local sensors, they were already deactivated, bypassed by some device.

Suddenly, he heard a noise, cloth against cloth.  Subtle, for sure, a human couldn't have heard it, but K'Hellenbek could tell, he was not alone.  At last!  He could find out who was stealing his reports and sending them to the pirates.  

K'Hellenbek drew his disrupter and edged cautiously forward.  He could see a figure in the dark.  It reached up to an alcove and withdrew something.  It held the object next to what seemed to be some kind of tricorder, then replaced the object.  Then the figure came towards K'Hellenbek.

K'Hellenbek stepped out of the shadows to confront the figure, his disrupter held at the ready.  "Stop right there my friend," he said, "I'd hate to have to use this." K'Hellenbek waved his disrupter for emphasis.  

The figure stopped and raised its arms as if to surrender.  Its thumb depressed a button on its tricorder and K'Hellenbek could begin to hear the sound of a transporter.  The figure began to sparkle as K'Hellenbek fired.  

He was not sure if he hit the figure or not, but he did know one thing.  As soon as he fired his disrupter, sirens began to wail.  He had to escape fast!

K'Hellenbek swung down the Jeffries tube and heard footsteps from the right.  Fine, he thought, I'll go left!  As he ran from the communications array, he heard more security forces converging on the spot.  Eventually, he concluded, he would be seen.  He had only one chance.  He found an alcove along the hallway and hid.  His finger lightly caressed a button on his belt.  As the security forces approached, he pressed the button.  His figure began to waver, then vanished from sight.  The Federation security guards looked in the alcove and then moved on.  15 seconds later, K'Hellenbek reappeared, though his face was pale and his skin was sweaty. His personal cloaking device had saved him, but he knew the price would be rough.  If he could only make it back to his quarters before he threw up or fainted.

"Report!" T'Pina said sharply to the Station Security Chief, Lt. Commander K'SQqwa SuDs'qan'ya.

"A type three disrupter was fired in the communications array, but by the time security arrived, whoever fired it was gone.  The shot did not hit anything of importance, and the damage has already been repaired.  We conducted a search of the area, but could find no one.  However, we did find these objects."  K'SQqwa placed two small boxes on T'Pina's desk.  "One is a device to circumvent our security sensors.  I have reprogrammed our sensors to detect its use in the future.  The other is a storage device.  It appears that it was placed there to record our transmissions.  Unfortunately, it is empty.  Whoever placed it there must have just downloaded it."

"Presumably, whoever fired that shot was attempting to stop the infiltrator, or the infiltrator fired the shot at whoever had the misfortune to discover him.  We have not been able to recover any DNA from the site, so I conclude whoever fired the shot missed."

"I suggest you place a secondary sensor net in that area," T'Pina said, "and in any other areas you think might be able to be compromised in the same manner."

"Yes, Captain."

"K'SQqwa, you have been very thorough.  You have done satisfactory work.  Your people are to be rewarded." T'Pina said.

"But I have failed to find the information leak." K'SQqwa said.

"You have stopped it, for a while.  Our spy will have to find new ways to gather his intelligence now.  Perhaps that is enough.  Keep after them."

"Yes, Captain."

"Dismissed."

K'SQqwa left T'Pina's office even more determined.  He would find this spy or die trying!

The being known to its self as Three was thinking.  It had gone through all of the records it could in Starbase 410's memory banks.  It had cataloged every Starfleet encounter with a non-corporeal energy being that it could, but it had failed to find its fellows.  But the starbase's records were not complete.  More data could be found elsewhere in the Federation.  Three only had to figure out how to get there.

The first problem was that Three had become part of the station.  She could not leave it.  She found this out when she had tried to hitch a ride on a ship she had redirected to Earth.  When she tried to leave the station, she started to download herself into the ship's computer, only to start losing her consciousness.  Three quickly withdrew from the redirected ship. She was trapped!

Three then tried to deprogram herself, to take away the parts of her she had assumed when she had arrived.  She had integrated herself with the holo-program she had hid in from security.  Now, she tried to separate the holo-program from herself. She had the same results.  She began to feel parts of herself disappear.  Parts she now wished to keep! 

So, Three could not leave the station as herself, nor could she deprogram herself so she could leave as her old self.  Well, Three thought, if I can't leave the station, then I'll have to take it with me!


	21. Part 21

The Adventure Continues…. Part 21

            "You need to increase your signal gain and sharpen your frequency exclusions." Anarita Jat told the young Klingon warrior.  He looked at her, then glanced toward the command chair where Captain KiHQaS sat with her back towards them, well within earshot.  "Do not look for everything," Jat continued, "just focus on certain rare elements. Try the obscure elements, say like veridian."

            The young warrior adjusted his sensors.  "Commodore, I show six small bits of veridian slowly moving away from our position."

            "No, can you get a fix on the position?"

            "Yes."

            "Is there any organic material near the veridian?" Anarita dreaded the answer.

            "No, Commodore, there isn't."

            Anarita breathed a sigh of relief.  

KiHQaS rose from her chair and nodded to Jat. "Come with me.  We need to talk." She left the bridge.  Anarita told the young warrior, "Have those veridian bits beamed aboard and continue looking for likely rare elements." She then went to the bridge hatch and left.

In the hallway, Captain KiHQaS waited for her.  She lead Jat down the hall to a small side room.  Filled with equipment, there was little room for the both of them, but it provided them with some privacy.

KiHQaS waited until Jat closed the door, then said, "Who gave you the right to give orders on my ship? I should have thrown you out when you first came aboard!"

"According to the Klingon/Federation Alliance Treaty, I have the authority to commandeer this ship if I deem it necessary for the safety of the United Federation or the Klingon Empire." Jat replied.

"You would attempt to take my command? I would kill you first!"

"KiHQaS, this is a no win scenario for you.  I have legal authority and if you denied me command, I would challenge you for it. Then one of two things would happen, I would kill you and take the command anyway…"

"In your dreams!"

"…or you would kill me and be stripped of your command by the Klingon High Council.  And you would not be the only one to suffer.  The General has placed himself as a supporter of your cause, and your crew would be branded for life.  Your demotion would bring shame upon your house until the seventh generation."

"I am still the commander of this vessel, this crew is loyal to me and I demand some answers."  

"This crew is young and fresh from training.  They have had no experience. Perhaps we should both list our accomplishments, our battles won and our glorious deeds.  Where would you stand with them then?  The Jat part of me has been alive for hundreds of years.  There is no way you could have seen as many battles as I have.  As for answers, I'll give them when I am able, but some I can not and will not provide."

KiHQaS paused, thinking about her questions.  "How did you know about the veridian bits?"

"They were placed on the crews clothing prior to leaving the station."

"Where is the Sacagawea?"

"Believe me, if I knew, we would already be at max warp."

"How the heck did you get out here in the first place?"

Anarita just stared at KiHQaS, saying nothing.

"You know more than you have said, and I will have my answers!" KiHQaS yelled.

"Look, we both want the same goal, the return of the Sacagawea and crew, and the destruction of the pirates.  We can fight each other, or we can cooperate."

"Or I can put you out the airlock you came in."

"At least we understand each other."

John Borda glanced towards the guard at the end of the launch bay.  He was still diligently watching the group of prisoners.  Today, they were working on the repair of various types of old space fighters.  John had completed his repairs long ago, but kept moving as if he was still busy.  

Had this been any other situation, John would have been happy to work on the starfighter next to him.  Its swept back stubby wings and arrow shaped fuselage excited him.  It should have been in a museum, but despite its age, it was in excellent condition.  It was space and atmospheric capable. John could imagine flying it over close terrain in a game of hide and seek.  The craft would turn and dive at his command, leaping over mountains and hugging the sides of the valley.

But this wasn't the time to think about that, John decided.  They had been here over a week and they needed to escape.  Also, John had discovered something which made the small starfighter the last place he ever wanted to be.

John glanced at the guard again. He was looking the other way, distracted by a fellow guard.  John ducked under the starfighter and rolled over to the rear of the next fighter.  Moving up the side away from the guard, he approached Brian Starr.

"Brian, its me, John."

"I know, you should not have come over here.  Help me with this part.  If you are caught with me, just say you were assisting me."

They lifted a massive disrupter from its cradle and placed it on the starfighter's weapons pylon.  As Brian made the connections, John told him, "Brian, I know why the starfighters that attacked us blew up so easily. They are packed with explosives!"

Brian stopped and looked at John.  "I know, the pirates probably don't want any of their troops captured, or to try to steal a starfighter." Brian went back to working on the disrupter.  "There is a small communications device rigged to activate them if they receive the correct signal. I've already disabled the one on this starfighter.  It should test good, but it won't activate.  If we have to fly one of these things, choose this one."

John looked at Brian's fighter.  Unlike John's, this one was large and ugly, painted bright orange.  The fighter consisted of mostly armor and engines.  It seemed a wonder it could fly at all.

"I think I'll go back to my fighter and see if I can do the same to it."

"Good luck."

"You too."

In Starbase 410's Operations control room, Lt. Laura-Jean Morris and Ensign Laura Shepherd worked side by side to control the large station's activities.  With Jeanette Warren gone, they were working harder than usual.

"Freighter Blue Bird, you are cleared for departure from orbit M-25."

"Shuttle Anaconda requesting clearance from hanger A-12."

Shepherd looked up the departure plan for the Anaconda.  "Shuttle Anaconda, request denied."

"Starbase Ops, is there a reason we can't leave?  We have paid all our debts and posted our flight plan."

Shepherd looked at the log and turned to Lt. Morris.  "Laura-Jean, is there a reason why the Anaconda can't launch as planed?"

Laura-Jean looked at the departure list. "No, not that I know of. Ask Three."

Shepherd said, "Three, please explain why shuttle Anaconda can not depart as scheduled."

Three's voice woodenly replied, "Request denied."

Both Laura's looked at each other.  Shepherd then said again, "Please repeat, why can't shuttle Anaconda depart?"

"Departure not authorized at this time."

Morris looked up from her console and said, "All departures have been placed on hold!  Three! Explain, why are all departures halted?"

"Departure not authorized at this time." 

"I'm going to place Three in standby mode until I can sort this out." Morris said.

Suddenly Three's voice announced, "Attention all vessels in orbit of Starbase 410, you have five minutes to leave orbit.  You must achieve a minimum distance of 25,000 miles from the station."

Morris worked on her console, her fingers moving with practiced accuracy. She looked up from her work and slapped her comm. badge. "Morris to T'Pina, please report to Ops!"  She turned toward Shepherd and said quietly, "I can't turn Three off." 

The guard escorted Lt. Cdr. Saryena Remora back on board the U.S.S. Sacagawea and into the engineering bay.  At sight of her, Balor of Tanis IV scuttled over and told the guard, "I'll take care of her now, return to pick her up when I call for you."

The guard gave him a glance, then shrugged his shoulders. "I'll be out in the corridor. Yell if she gives you any trouble."

"Oh, I will, you can be certain of that." Balor grabbed Remora's arm and pulled her over to the main engineering console.  "I want you to input the codes that will unlock the ship's computer."

"Why?"

"What! What do you mean why?  You are a slave, do as you are told or you will be killed."

"And if I do unlock the computer, what are the chances I'll be killed anyway?  Or that you will use this ship to kill others.  I'm not stupid and neither are you, so don't act like the bully."

"But you have to input the codes."

"Balor, I've worked with you. Either you are the galaxy's best actor, or you are a decent man placed in an unfortunate position. Which is it? Tell me how you came to be working for these pirates, and I might enter the codes."

Balor stood there, weighing the choices, then sagged.  "I was on a trader out of Antaris III when we were captured.  It was a family ship, everyone on board had a spouse and some, like me, had children."  Balor pulled out a picture of a woman and a small girl.  "See, my wife, Andrea, and my daughter, Josie, were on board with me.  We were working our way to a new planet and a new life.  Shortly after we were captured, Andrea was exposed to some kind of alien virus and got sick.  The pirates offered me a deal. I would work for them and they would set her and my daughter up on a small colony planet.  They would even provide her the drugs to keep her alive.  If I don't do as they say, or fail them, they will stop providing the medicine."

Balor turned to Remora. "Now, please, for the sake of my wife and daughter, input the codes."

Remora leaned forward and input a line of digits.  "There," She said as she leaned back, "I have restored some of the command codes."

Balor worked the console.  He looked at Remora. "Restore them all!  Yarda will only want full use of the vessel!"

"No, as long as I know the codes, I stay alive.  I will release them a few at a time, but I want something in return." 

            "What?"

            "Access to the ship's computer.  Besides, that is the only way I can reverse some of the blocking codes."

            "I don't know."

            "You can watch every move I make, or, if you are uncomfortable, have a guard watch me."

            "You can't escape or send for help.  They will kill you on the spot."

            "That is my deal.  I give you a little, you give me a little."

"You will most likely get us both killed if you are caught, and then, what about my wife and daughter?"

"You have two choices as I see them." Remora told him. "Get the codes a little at a time and maybe have a chance to see your family again, or not get the codes and you and your family will die."

"You are like the pirates, you leave me little choice."   

S'ena had finally figured out the code to unlock her pen.  It was based on the galactic date minus 157 years.  Must have had something to do with an important Orion date in time.  Now all she needed was a plan.

She glanced at her room mates.  The three slave women had been tough to discipline, but they at least were getting along now.  If nothing else, they had a common enemy, S'ena!  S'ena was suddenly hit with inspiration.

"Girls," she said to them, "we are going on a field trip."

The three looked at her with blank stares.

On board the I.K.V. Hegh qaD, General K'batlh entered his battlecruiser's bridge to find her leaving orbit.

"Who gave the order to leave orbit?"

"Sir, the station ops advised us that we had five minutes to get 25,000 miles from the station.  We were just complying with their request."

"Get me station ops!"

"Yes, my General!" The comm. officer looked confused. "Sir, they refuse to answer our hails.  They just keep repeating their instructions with a count down."

"Sir," the weapons officer said, "They are raising shields!"

"Weapons?"

"No, sir, just shields."

"Red Alert! I want all weapons and defenses on line NOW! Sensors! Find out what could be attacking the station! Comm! Keep trying to raise station Ops!  Helm! Take us out to where we can maneuver!"

"Weapons activated and ready for combat!"

"Sir!" The sensor operator said, "The station has activated it's inverted poleron bubble shielding!"

"Shields are on-line!"

"Comm! Report!" K'batlh barked.

"Still no answer from the station to our hails."

"Sir!" The sensor operator said with dismay.  "The entire station is phasing in and out of our dimension!"

"Let me see that! Main view screen!"

On the main viewer, Starbase 410 was surrounded by the glow from it's poleron shielding, as if it were a child's top caught inside a soap bubble.  The station itself wavered in and out of sight.  Then, as if the bubble popped, the whole thing disappeared.  Where there had been a space station, there was now empty space.  


	22. Part22 Escape

The Adventure Continues…. Part 22

            The first thing Lt. Cdr. Saryena Remora did when she was given access to the Sacagawea's computer was to remove the lockout on the sensors.

            "Balor, please inform whomever should be told, that we are about to test the sensors." Saryena said.

            Balor turned away from the sensor console to speak to his superiors.  Saryena quickly tied into a nearby computer network and searched for her crewmates.  She knew she only had a few seconds, and this might be her only chance to affect their escape.  Balor had been correct when he had said she couldn't send a signal for help, but if she could make it so someone else could….

            Balor returned.  "We have permission to do a test sweep of the short range sensors, passive only at first."

            "Very well." Saryena activated the passive sensor array.  The Sacagawea's passive sensors detected every nearby source of energy and displayed them on the console monitor.  At the same time, a side display brought up the results of her unauthorized search.  Saryena glanced in Balor's direction, but he was looking at the main screen and the data displayed there.

Saryena said, "I'll try to see if we can glean a little bit more out of the sensors."

Saryena knew she was taking a chance as she worked the controls to both sharpen her sensor data and work on finding her mates.  She glanced at the list.  As she already knew, Jeanette, Brian and John were in prisoner's cells.  S'ena wasn't listed and Madia Amme was in guest quarters.  Saryena diverted the sensor data to Madia's quarters.

            Then she looked at the sensor data.  The Sacagawea was in a close orbit to an asteroid. The asteroid appeared to be hollowed out to make a space station, but it was putting out massive amounts of power in some type of shielding.  Saryena wondered why the pirates would put out so much power if they were hiding.  The energy output would give them away unless they could hide it somehow.

            "A cloaking device." She said in astonishment.

            Balor's head snapped around. "Enough! The sensors work fine. Turn them off."

            "But we haven't checked the active ones yet." Saryena said.

            "And we won't today, for what are now obvious reasons. Guard! Take her back to her cell.  I am finished with her for today."

            Saryena quickly erased her handy work as she shut down the sensors.  Maybe she had done enough.

            Madia Amme woke suddenly to the sound of her computer beeping.  She rushed over to look at it.  It had always been a one way source of information before, unresponsive except for requests for entertainment.  Now it beeped, and displayed sensor readings.  Madia sat down and started to study the readings.  Just as quickly as it started, it stopped.

            Madia quickly checked the computer log.  Yes! The information had been recorded.  But Madia wasn't as interested in the data from the sensors, as she was in the message coding.  She broke down the data message, looking for the codes that would allow her access to the main computer.  Once she had a way to access the main computer,  she could work on getting them all out of here!

            "Report!" Captain T'Pina said as she arrived in Ops.  Her limp was more pronounced than usual, and she seemed to lean on her cane a bit more, but her eyes were steady and clear and she demanded attention.

            "The station has entered some kind alternate space." Morris said.

            "Sensors report nothing beyond the outside of our inverted poleron bubble shielding." Shepherd added.

            "Moments before we slipped into this continuum, Three appeared to have knowledge of it's occurrence.  She halted all departures and warned orbiting ships away from the station.  She then activated the shielding."

            "What is our current station status?" T'Pina asked calmly.

            Morris replied, "The station and crew are all in one piece.  All the instruments are functioning correctly.  It appears that what ever is happening outside has not affected anything inside the poleron bubble."

            Shepherd said, "One trading ship didn't make it past the edge of the shields and was cut in half.  Fortunately, the engines were outside the shields, while the habitat section was inside.  The crew and passengers were beamed off immediately and rescue crews are towing the ship in now.  There are currently 37 ships still in parking orbits around the station.  All are on high alert, but none are trying to leave."

            "As you can guess," Morris said, "We have been inundated with calls from all the embassies and most every other person who thinks they deserve to know, asking what is going on.  I have set up a recorded message telling them to please clear the channels for emergency communications.  It hasn't worked very well.  Mostly, I've been to busy to talk to anyone."

            T'Pina went over to the communications console and keyed in the station wide announcement, "This is Captain T'Pina to all station personnel.  I am declaring an emergency as of 1923 hours.  Off duty personnel report to your emergency stations. Any unauthorized use of station resources, such as communications, replications or power allocations will be punished under the regulations governing station emergency management.  In short, do not call Ops unless it is an emergency.  All that the station replicators will now produce are emergency rations and parts.  Holodecks are now off line until further notice.  Understand this, if you want to know what is going on, look out a window.  We will inform you of any changes as soon as we can.  Captain T'Pina out."

            T'Pina turned to the two ladies.  "We need answers and we need them now, let's review the logs."

            Commodore Anarita Jat was working the sensor console, while the young Klingon warrior watched over her shoulder.  While Anarita cursed the Klingon sensors, Jat was fondly remembering the simplicity of their use.  They had basically one purpose, and that was to find the target, whether the target was a planet they wished to orbit, or an enemy they wished to shoot.  Currently, Anarita was trying to target impulse engine exhaust from over a week ago.

            Captain KiHQaS strode over to the sensor station and asked, "What have you found?"

            "I have found two things," Jat told her, "One, Klingon sensors are far inferior to just about anybody else's in the quadrant."  KiHQaS glared at her. "And there are four traceable leads which could be our pirates ion trails leaving here."  

            "Put them on the main viewer." KiHQaS ordered.

            Anarita displayed the four trails on the main screen of the bridge and got up from her chair.  She and KiHQaS walked up to the viewer and whispered to each other.

            "This is the best I can do with your sensors and by the time a Federation ship arrives, even these readings will have disappeared." Anarita told KiHQaS.

            "Then we only have time to follow one of these four trails, but which one?" KiHQaS mused.

            "The biggest one was probably laid down as a decoy.  The least two are the size of medium ships, probably used to pick up any cargo jettisoned and carry fighters."

            "The Sacagawea was towed away at warp speed," KiHQaS said, "It would take a large ship to accomplish that task. Well, two trails left.  One sure to be a decoy, and the other sure to be our prey."

            "My suggestion? Follow the next to largest one."

            KiHQaS looked at the display for another minute, though she was more lost in thought than studying it.  At last, she turned and walked to her command chair.  Sitting down in it, she said, "Set course to follow the largest sensor trail."

            "But…" Anarita started.

            "No, Starfleet, you have been sitting in your nice, safe, soft, comfy chairs too long.  You are good with puzzles, I'll give you that, but a warrior knows the hunt, and we are a ship full of warriors.  My gut tells me that the prey is over confident.  He has worked hard to hide his spore, but he is still impressed with himself.  He has gotten away too many times, and now, he uses your own impressions to trick you.  I have hunted targ with my bare hands.  I have smelled them in the dirt they trod on.  I have seen their passage in the waving of the branches.  These pirates, they too are crafty, but now, we have their scent.  Set the course helm.  Commodore, you have proven useful at the sensors.  Please continue to instruct my warrior there, he will become the better for your assistance."

            The Klingon bird-of-prey, the IKV Dragon Fist, leapt into action for the first time in a week, streaking away, following a trail of gas dispersed over a week ago.  Like a hound, it turned and backtracked, continuing to follow the spore of its prey.  Eventually though, the trail stopped.

            "That is it Captain, the trail ends here." The young sensor operator said.

            "That's it then, we followed the wrong trail and now the Sacagawea is lost." Jat said quietly to KiHQaS. 

"Helm, project a course ahead from this position based on the track we have been following.  Are there any planets or other steller phenomenon that the pirates could us as a base of operations?"  KiHQaS asked. 

"No Captain, there is nothing but empty space for 50 light years." 

"Maybe, if we turn back, we can still follow the other trail." Jat suggested.        

            "No, Commodore, this is the place, or somewhere close by.  Our prey has just gone to ground.  All we need to do is wait.  Have patience."

            KiHQaS turned to her crew.  "Rig for silent operations. Passive sensors only. Cloaking device on."

            "But captain, with the cloaking device on, we will be defenseless, and the energy stores will be depleted in less than 24 hours." The warrior at the helm said. 

            "Then pray I change my mind, or the pirates show themselves, before the time is up!  Carry out your orders!" 

            S'ena knew the code to open the door to her pen, now she just had to convince the three Orion animal women to join her in her escape.  Logical discussion wouldn't work, and trying to bully them would also show limited results.  She had to make them want to leave the den.

            Suddenly, it came to S'ena, pheromones!  That was her ticket to controlling the other women.  By emitting pheromones, she could influence them into doing what she wanted.  But pheromones only transmitted emotions, which emotion should she use to get them to leave?  Fear? They would cower in the pillows.   Rage? They would turn on themselves and her.  Lust? Yes! They would have to seek a mate, which meant they would have to leave the pen.

            S'ena began to think lustful thoughts.  Strangely, she got the most reaction out of thinking about Brian Starr.  She almost lost her concentration.  Why should she think lustful thoughts about someone who she had never done anything more than hug? Yes, she wanted to have their relationship go farther, but she had done a lot more with others in the past.  Maybe it was because all of her past relationships had been superficial, fun, but with no deep commitment.  Well, she thought, whatever worked.

            And it was working, kind of like a feedback circuit, like when you get a microphone too close to the speakers.  The more pheromones she put out, the more lustful she felt.  It was affecting the other Orion women as well.  They started to display themselves, standing up and moving as if to music only they could hear.  As each felt more lustful, each emitted more pheromones, which made them even more lustful.

            I better get us out of here before we can't leave, S'ena thought.  She input the codes to the door lock.  The door opened to the hallway, and S'ena led the three women out.  She said, "Ladies, there are men down this way."  The three eagerly followed her down the corridor. The smell of their lust permeated the areas around them as they traveled.  Anyone who happened upon the smell would react the same way. Hopefully, they wouldn't run into anyone before they got to where S'ena wanted to go!

            At the intersection where S'ena had seen the guarded door, she stopped.  "All right girls, we need to look our best." She glanced around the corner.  Two guards stood right where she knew they would be, and they appeared to be effected by the pheromones, glancing nervously at each other.  "Show time!"

            S'ena confidently rounded the corner with the other three in tow.  The guards, already desirous of women, immediately saw them.  To give them credit, they did hesitate a second before dropping their weapons and rushing the women.  S'ena dropped them both with well aimed chops to the neck.

            The three glared at her as if betrayed.  "Bring them along, we don't have enough men yet." She told them.

            While the others dragged the unconscious guards, S'ena input the same code as she used to get out of her pen.  She wasn't sure it would work, but gambled on the laziness of guards galaxy wide.  Sure enough, the door opened.  S'ena and her crew entered the room where another Orion sat at a console.  He looked up, then reached for his disrupter.  With a wave of her hand, the four women surrounded the lone technician.  Quickly, the pheromones worked on him and he lowered his disrupter.  He grabbed one of the women and they went off into a corner.

            S'ena dismissed the rest of them, and what they were doing, and concentrated on the console in front of her.  The controls were all in Orion!  Oh, if only she had studied her Orion written language better.  She struggled to remember what she could.  The board appeared to run some kind of transmitter.  Massive power flowed through it, but there wasn't any input, so it couldn't be a communications device.  It actually seemed to be running a kind of shield generator.  Perhaps, she could use one of the shield harmonics to transmit a message!

            S'ena began to adjust the shield controls to produce a harmonic signal on a Starfleet distress frequency.  It would appear as a maladjustment to the casual observer at the console, but to any Starfleet ships nearby, it would scream HELP!  The problem was that they would have to be very close.  The stronger the harmonic, the more chance that she would be caught!

            Yarda entered the bridge on his asteroid starship base.  He looked over the people there.  His bodyguard took up a position near the door behind him.  Several Orion technicians were working at their consoles, obviously wishing to appear busy, even if they were not.  Yarda approached the sensor operator.  He took a moment to look at his finger nails before asking, "What is the status on that Klingon ship that stopped nearby?"

            "It disappeared shortly after it arrived.  I think it left." The sensor tech answered.

            "Did you see it leave?"

            "No, sir, but it has not been detected for 12 hours now."

            "Are you aware that Klingon ships have cloaking devices much like ours?"

            "Yes, but this was a small ship, I don't think it could stay cloaked this long."

            "That is why I'm in charge and you work for me," Yarda said in a bored voice.  "I happen to know that the Klingon Birds-of-prey can stay cloaked for up to 24 hours if they conserve their energy.  Speaking of cloaks, what is the status of ours?"

            "It has been on for a week and is showing signs of deterioration.  We have had to monitor it constantly.  Even now, I am detecting an odd harmonic."

            "Well, fix it!  I do not want our Klingon friend to find us."

            "Yes sir.  We need to turn it off soon so we can perform maintenance on it."

            "Wait another 14 hours.  Our Klingon will either have shown himself by then, or else he is really gone." Yarda then began an intimidating tour of the other consoles.

            "That is odd," The sensor tech said to himself.

            "What is it?" Yarda asked, returning to the sensor station.

            The tech looked up, surprised and horrified that he had spoken out loud, and that Yarda had heard him.  "I, I, I'm not getting any response from technician Harot." He stammered.  "He is down in power control for the cloaking device."

            Yarda pressed a button on the console comm. device. "Security to cloaking control immediately."

            Just off of Starbase 410's Ops was the briefing room.  In the briefing room was a long smooth polished table with cleverly concealed computer displays hidden beneath it's dark surface.  At the head of the table sat T'Pina, rigid and formal.  Around the table sat all of the current department heads that could get there.

            Lt. Laura-Jean Morris entered and sat down.  She said, "Medical sends it's regards, but they need everyone down there for the emergency."

            "Very well, we will start without them." T'Pina said. "Please summarize what we have found out."

            "At 1914 hours, Three, our automated space traffic controller, stopped all incoming and outgoing space traffic.  She then issued a warning to all orbiting craft that they had five minutes to depart the area, if they could.  Five minutes later, she activated the Inverted Poleron field around the station.  Thirty seconds after that, we entered this space."

            Lt. Commander K'SQqwa SuDs'qan'ya, head of station security looked confused.  "You programmed your hologram to do all that?"

            "Well, in emergency conditions, Three has the ability to do all of that, but no emergency had been declared, and sensors didn't pick up a thing to indicate we were about to be transported here."

            "So," T'Pina said, "We are left with this puzzle.  How did Three know to take emergency procedures if there was no evidence of an emergency?"  T'Pina stood up and looked out the window where there was nothing to see. "Logic dictates that since there was no clue to tell Three about an impending emergency, that Three is the cause of the emergency."

            "But how could Three have moved us into this, this, nothing?" Morris asked.

            "And how do we get her to take us back?"  K'Sqqwa asked.

            Suddenly, to everyone's surprise, stars appeared outside the window.

            A young voice hailed them from the speakers. "Shepherd to T'Pina. We have returned to normal space."

            "Well, shall we go find out where we are?" T'Pina asked.


	23. Part23

The Adventure Continues…. Part 23

            Memory Alpha was a massive library containing all of the cultural and scientific information of the United Federation of Planets.  Each member planet sent everything about itself to Memory Alpha to be stored in its memory banks for the enlightenment of future generations.  Selected great minds of the universe came to learn all the latest information they needed to create wonders.  

Memory Alpha was built on an asteroid in 2269, and it could house over 10,000 scientists with over 8,000 private laboratories and briefing rooms.  It was protected by Starfleet's finest, but control was run by civilians selected for their expertise in the libraries main functions.  For a scientist, it was a dream assignment, but for a young ensign who joined Starfleet to see the stars, it was pure hell.

All that changed one day, when out of nowhere appeared a giant "Guardian Class" space station.  Ships around both the station and Memory Alpha departed as fast as they could.  The sudden appearance of the space station, which was not designed to move from place to place, sent a panic through the asteroid.  Shortly after it appeared, the space station started to download all of Memory Alpha's information.  In its place it substituted the records from the space station.  It apparently needed the extra memory to store Memory Alpha's records.

Naturally, the Memory Alpha personnel tried to stop the transmissions, but they soon found their own computers rebelling against them.  They also tried to hail the traveling space station, which they could read 410 from its side, but the station wouldn't respond.  A shuttlecraft was sent out, but its passengers were beamed back and it was destroyed.  The scientists debated what to do while the Starfleet personnel ran around trying to stop the flow of information.

At last, the information stopped flowing.  Not because the Starfleet people had done anything, but because Starbase 410 had downloaded everything.  The station hung in space for about four hours, then disappeared again, leaving the people of Memory Alpha puzzled.

Once again, T'Pina and her department heads were in the briefing room, but this time, they had more information to go on.

"We now know that this is not a natural phenomenon.  The station appeared in a specific place and took actions we had no control over." Morris said.  "What's more, we know that Three is directing those actions, either consciously or while being controlled by another entity."

"Captain, I've looked over everything that could have been programmed into Three, but I can find no way that she should be able to move the station like this." Shepherd said.

"The very fact that we are moving through space by Three's directions would indicate that it is possible, Ms. Shepherd," T'Pina said, "it is just that we do not know how.  We need to find out why Three is doing this, who is controlling her and how can we stop her from doing it."

"Three has been largely unresponsive." Morris said.

"Perhaps she is too busy with this space travel." K'Sqqwa said.

"That may be her Achilles' heel then," T'Pina said.  "We need to work on a way to either isolate or turn off Three.  Then, perhaps we can get her to talk."

When the guards arrived at the cloaking power control room, S'ena and her girls didn't put up a fight.  S'ena acted as dumb and confused as the rest of the girls.  As they were being taken back to their pen, Yarda stopped them and looked at S'ena.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were behind this." He pulled her chin up to look at her.  "Are you getting paler?"

S'ena's heart froze, but she continued to give him a blank stare.  She thought, I'm just a dumb girl, I'm just a dumb girl.

Yarda released her. "Never mind, I will find the guard who let you out and have him punished.  Take them back to their cell."

S'ena looked back at Yarda as she was being taken away, but he was already talking to a technician.

"Can you fix it?" Yarda asked.

"Only if we take the cloaking device off line for two hours."

"Impossible!  We still don't know if that Klingon ship is gone."

"Then the best I can do is keep it going like it is for one more hour, then it will collapse whether we want it or not.  Once it collapses, I don't know how long it will take to fix. If you allow me to take it down for 10 minutes, I can extend that to two days, three tops.  Yarda, it needs maintenance."

"Very well, I will give you your maintenance time.  But only after I know the Klingon is gone.  I will not give away all that I have established here without a fight."  Yarda pulled out his communicator and said.  "Fighter control, prepare to launch all fighters.  Engine room, prepare for warp travel."

If there was one thing Anarita Jat hated the most, it was waiting.  She had been loitering on the bridge for over 18 hours now.  She almost wished she had KiHQaS' ability to remain calm.  Anarita paced the small bridge for a while, then found a seat on a re-enforcement beam.  Anarita hated waiting.

"Captain, I have found something odd." The comm. officer reported.  
            Both KiHQaS and Anarita perked up. "What is it?" KiHQaS asked.

"I have an unusual signal to noise ratio on a Federation distress frequency.  It is too strong to be noise, but will not resolve into anything else."

Anarita and KiHQaS both came over to the communications console.  "Can you pinpoint where it is coming from?" Anarita asked.

"No, I can only give you the general direction where it is coming from."

"I have got it!" said the young sensor operator Anarita had been working with.  "It is originating from below and to the port.  I believe it to be from a source not more than 50,000 miles away.  If we could have the helm fire a short burst from the starboard thrusters, I think I can verify it's exact location."

KiHQaS looked at the warrior, then looked at Anarita.  She was clearly impressed with the young warriors ability to find the difficult signal, but she didn't want to thank Anarita out loud for the training she must have given him.

"Helm," KiHQaS said, "Do what he suggests."

Barely perceptible, but clearly evidenced by the movement of the stars on the main viewer, the Dragon Fist moved to port.

"Yes, I have it now, bearing 330 by 250 at 34,055 miles."

"Are you sure?" KiHQaS asked.

"You could fire a torpedo at it!" the young warrior smiled.

"Weapons! Make it so! Fire a torpedo!" KiHQaS said.

"Firing torpedo!"

The cloaking device disengaged and the nose of the Dragon Fist glowed an ominous red.  Out of it's launcher spouted a red ball of fire that streaked towards the coordinates.

"You realize, if you are wrong, I will kill you." KiHQaS told the young warrior, and then turned her back on him to watch the display.  Behind her, she could hear him swallow.

At the correct area, the torpedo detonated with a flash.  Nothing happened.  KiHQaS turned toward the sensor operator angrily.

"No, wait!" Anarita said.

Before them, as if wavering under water, an asteroid slowly came into being.  Slung to either side of the asteroid were massive warp nacelles.

"It was cloaked!" Anarita said.

"Battle stations! Weapons and shields up!" KiHQaS was in her element now with a foe to destroy.

"I count 43 small fighter craft and 3 medium sized craft." The sensor operator said.  "One of them is the Federation starship we have sought!"

Anarita went over to the comm. station and told the warrior there, "Send out a call to every ship in the area.  Tell them we have found the pirates!"

Brian, John and Jeanette had been awakened and taken to the starfighter bay without any explanation.  They were told by the guards to get in the first starfighter they could reach, as they only had 60 seconds before the outer hatch opened and they were launched into space, with or without a ship!

Brian and John were relived to see that they were being taken to the same hanger bay where they had fixed the two starfighters not to blow, but then they realized that Jeanette was with them!  There were only two safe starfighters!  They couldn't tell her which ones were safe either, the guards were too near.

Brian and John looked at each other and nodded in silent agreement.  Jeanette would be taken to a safe starfighter.  She watched them and said, "What? Did I miss something?"

The hatch opened and people started running out into the bay.  John and Brian directed Jeanette towards the small sleek starfighter John had been working on, while they hurriedly told her.

"The starfighters are rigged to blow up if you are hit, or if you try to make a break for it." Brian said.

"I've fixed this one so it won't blow if you run, but don't get hit!" John told her.

"But what about you guys?" Jeanette said.

"Don't worry about us, we have two more starfighters ready as well." Brian lied. "Just hurry!"

As they approached the sleek starfighter, a large alien tried to pull them away.  John and Brian fought him off while Jeanette got in and secured her hatch.  After making sure she was safe, Brian told John, "Go! Get in the other fighter!"

"But what about you?"

"That's an order! Move it!"

As John moved off to the large fat starfighter Brian had fixed, Brian decked the alien he was fighting.  The alien dropped unconscious to the floor of the hanger bay.  Brian looked around. He had no clue how much longer he had.  He could see John in his starfighter.  There were two starfighters left at the end of the bay.  Brian didn't hesitate as he picked up the alien and headed for them.

Brian could see John watching him with concern as he ran past carrying the heavy alien.  How much time did he have? Brian wondered.  Would he make it?  Brian slipped into the "One".  

Time stretched out and became unimportant.  Brian reached the first starfighter and placed the alien in it.  The outer launching hatch began to slowly open.  As Brian strapped the slowly waking alien in to his seat, he could feel the air rushing out past him towards the air lock.  Brian hit the canopy close button on the first of the two starfighters and started towards the last starfighter.

The air was thinner now, but what was left threatened to drag him out into space.  Brian reached the boarding ladder of the last starfighter. He couldn't breathe, in fact, the last bit of air in his lungs was emptying out in to the growing vacuum.  Brian climbed the side of the starfighter, and fell into the cockpit.  In the calmness of the "One", he searched for the canopy close switch. No two starfighters had been the same, but one could assume that the needs of the humanoid pilots would be similar.  The canopy close would be placed either on the right or the left, near enough to be actuated by someone out side.  Brian looked under the canopy seal ledge.  Sure enough there was a red switch.  Brian pulled it.

Time still seemed slowed as Brian waited in the ever-thinning air.  If he had found the correct switch, and it worked, all he could do was wait.  Brian began to think about what it would be like to die in a vacuum.  His lungs were already empty, and his eardrums were about to burst.  His eyes were trying to leave their sockets.  He could feel blood crawling slowly down his nose.

The canopy closed with a thin hiss.  Air rushed into the starfighter's cockpit and the systems started up.  Brian gulped the air as he struggled with the seat harness.  Suddenly, he was pushed back as the starfighter was catapulted out into space.

Great! Brian thought, I'm in a flying bomb and it has no inertial dampeners.  Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Fortunately for Saryena Remora, she was on the bridge of the Sacagawea when the trouble started.  The first thing she did was deck the guard.  As he fell to the floor, Balor cried, "What are you doing!? We will both be killed for this!"

"I'm saving our collective butts.  Now sit down and stay out of my way!" Saryena told him.  "Computer, recognize Lt. Cmdr. Remora. Code Charlie Nine Theta Two"

"Code accepted.  Lt. Cmdr Remora, Starfleet active duty status.  All command codes are now cleared for your use." The computer said.

"You are Starfleet?" Balor cried!

"Don't worry, I have a plan." She lied. "Computer, initiate intruder alert condition gamma.  Gas the rest of the ship!" Saryena looked at Balor. "You're in good hands with Starfleet!"

Saryena turned towards the helm and asked the computer, "Do we have mobility?"

The computer replied, "Negative, it will take 30 minutes for the fastest automated cold start."

"Get on it then. What about weapons or shields?" Saryena asked.

"Weapons are available and shields will be operational in one minute."

"Darn, that is a long time in a space battle." Saryena said. "Can you re-route transporter control to the science station?"

"Yes, complying now."

"Balor, if you want to make any kind of life for you and your family, I suggest you start beaming prisoners out of the pirate base and onto this ship.

"All starfighters launched, Yarda." An Orion crewman reported.

"Good, have them attack the Klingon in our standard pattern.  His energy reserves must be low after staying cloaked so long.  If we can batter him down, we can take him."  Yarda looked at the crewman and said, "Have the fighter support ships back off, but stay in range to pick up our fighters and take our prize when they are done.  Meanwhile, prepare for warp speed."

"By your command." 

"Oh, and put a tractor beam on that old Federation ship. I want to take it with us."

"All starfighters, implement attack plan alpha as per your training." A voice told Brian.  On his console, a counter started to count down while his flight direction display showed the same square boxes he'd seen before.  His starfighter was beginning to drift off of its projected flight path.  Shortly afterwards, pain began to emanate from his seat.  Brian quickly brought the starfighter into line.  How was he going to stay alive, while still not firing at innocents?  He still had no idea who they were going up against, but if they were against the pirates, they were not necessarily on his side!

The counter reached zero, and the flight path indicated he should start his approach.  He had a little room to maneuver in the flight path, at least he could hope to dodge incoming fire.  Brian was suddenly reminded of the space fight in which he was captured.  How many others had been in the same position as Brian was now?  Who was over on the ship they were attacking? Was it Brian's turn to vanish in a fireball of escaping gasses and debris?

As the little starfighter swung around and dove in for the strike, Brian could tell that the target was a Klingon bird-of-prey.  On his console, the white flashing light was flashing faster and faster.  Soon, Brian knew it would turn red and he would either have to fire at the bird-of-prey or feel mind numbing pain.  Brian knew he couldn't fire on the Klingon.  The flashing light was about to change.

Brian pulled the trigger.


	24. Part 24

The Adventure Continues…. Part 24

Aboard the Klingon Bird-of-prey, IKV Dragon Fist, the deck shook with incoming fire.

"They must train their pilots poorly," Captain KiHQaS told Commodore Anarita Jat.  "That last one fired too soon."

"Should I return fire Captain?" The weapons warrior asked.

"No, keep firing on that asteroid spaceship. Target its engines.  If it goes to warp, we may loose it." KiHQaS answered.  She turned to Jat again. "The closest ships that can help us are hours away." 

"We must stop these pirates, no matter the cost." Jat said. 

"I understand you Commodore, but I am low on reserve power and this is an untested crew."

"Then," Jat looked her in the eye, "Perhaps today is a good day to die."

 Madia Amme keyed in another computer sequence and her room door opened at last.  She was free and she had a plan, out the door she raced.  She knew now that the asteroid she had been imprisoned on was warp capable and it was under attack.  All she needed to do was sabotage the engines long enough for rescue to arrive.  She laughed to herself, she was good at that!

The first guard she saw never knew what hit him.  Her flying kick landed solidly on his back and his head made a satisfying thump on the wall.  She stopped long enough to slip into his shirt and to grab his disrupter rifle.  While she would never hope to pass herself off as an Orion, perhaps the shirt would give the other guards pause long enough for her to stun them.  Disposing of the body in a nearby room, she continued towards engineering. 

Just shy of main engineering, Madia crawled into a Jeffries tube leading up.  Through a ventilation shaft, she could see into main engineering.  Below her, she could make out some control consoles.  The warp core pulsed slowly across the room.  A slight breeze blew warm air up into her face from another vent opening below her.  Madia thought, the main control console must be right under me.  The warm air must be from the control circuits.  If only I had a way to take them out.

She backed away from the vent, her disrupter digging into her side.  Of course! She thought, I've got a perfect bomb right here!

Madia set the disrupter to over load and lowered it down the shaft by its shoulder strap.  Quickly, she crawled backwards out of the ventilation shaft and down the Jeffries tube.  If only she had enough time to get far enough away to avoid the blast!

As she crawled out of the Jeffries tube and turned around, she found herself facing two guards, both with their disrupters pointed at her!

"This area is secure!" Madia boldly lied.  "Lets go on to the next check spot."

The guards looked confused.

"Get on then!" She pushed past the two guards.  "Follow or stay, but I've got more maintenance tubes to check."

She almost made it to the corner when she first heard the whine of a disrupter.  She didn't glance back as she broke into a run.  A blast hit the wall beside her as she dove for cover around the corner in the hallway.  She was halfway down the corridor when the disrupter she had set on overload went off.  Her body was picked up by the rush of air and thrown forward along with the rest of the debris.

The blast was felt all through the asteroid.  On the bridge, one of the engineering crewmen said, "Yarda, something has happened down in main engineering."

"Tell me something I didn't know," He said calmly, "Like our status?"

"It appears to have been an explosion." The engineer replied.  "It has disabled our main engineering controls.  Warp drive is off line.  I can not raise anyone in engineering to tell us more."

"Please go down there and find out what is happening." Yarda sounded annoyed. "And report back when we will be able to go to warp."

The engineer ran from the bridge.

Yarda turned to his second in command, Pog, and told him, "Please, increase power to the shields.  It appears we are not going anywhere for a while."

Starbase 410 started to rapidly appear in different places in the galaxy.  It didn't seem to follow any set pattern. Alpha quadrant, Delta quadrant, Gamma quadrant, Beta quadrant, the errant station visited them all.  It would appear in normal space, transmit a single message, wait for an hour, and then slip back into nonspace.

In the briefing room near Ops, Captain T'Pina listened to the debate.

"At least we were able to transport most of the civilians off the station when we appeared near Bajor." Lt. Laura-Jean Morris said.

"Yes, Deep Space 9 was very helpful, though I bet it was crowded by the time we left." Lt. Commander K'SQqwa said.

"I don't understand all this bouncing around," Ens. Laura Shepherd said.  "That last stop, we sent a signal to a protostar in the Delta quadrant."

"And the stop before that was just outside a nebula in the Beta quadrant." Morris said.

"Lt. Morris," T'Pina said, "Please list the planets we can positively identify."

"We have already visited Mab-Bu VI, Triacus, Zetar, Medusa, Bajor, Organia…"

"Wait!" K'SQqwa said, "What was that last one again?"

"Organia, supposed home planet of the Organians.  They imposed the Organian Peace Treaty of 2267 between the Federation and the Klingon Empire."

"Yes, we almost beat you then," K'SQqwa said absentmindedly, his mind putting the pieces together.  "The Organians are non-corporeal beings.  Do any of the other places we have been to have connections to non-corporeal life?"

"Checking," Shepherd said.  "Yes, several have been confirmed or suspected of having, or being once inhabited by, non-corporeal beings.  Bajor's wormhole is said to be populated by the non-corporeal prophets." 

"And Lt. Cdr. Warren's aunt visited a protostar in the Delta quadrant in 2371!" Morris said. "The corona of the protostar contained sentient photonic beings!"

K'SQqwa slapped his hand down hard on the table, making everyone but T'Pina jump.  "That explains it!"

"You propose an interesting theory Lt. Commander K'SQqwa," T'Pina said.  "Perhaps you'd like to enlighten the rest of the room in a more subdued manner?"

"Sorry Captain," K'SQqwa said.  "The last couple of weeks, the station's computer has been rifling the Astrometrics data, with special interest in places we have encountered non-corporeal life."  K'SQqwa leaned forward.  "I propose that this station, and Three in particular, has been taken over by just such a creature."

"But for what purpose?" Shepherd asked.

"I think," T'Pina said, "That it wants to find its way home."

"Computer, time until engines are ready?" Saryena Remora asked.

"13.5 minutes until engines can be used." The feminine voice of the Sacagawea's computer replied.

"Balor, how is the prisoner rescue going?" Saryena asked.

"I have isolated all of the Orions in the shuttle bay and transported all the prisoners I could locate to the habitat decks.  Most of them have succumbed to the gas still present there."

"I want you to make a special effort to find Bajoran and Human life forms and beam them straight to the bridge.  I'm going to need help to pull this off." Saryena ordered him.  "We'll need to keep the shields down until we know we have all of the prisoners we can get out.  Surprise is still on our side." Saryena was worried, would they be discovered before she could take action, or save her friends?

Ignoring the starfighters that swarmed like gnats, the Klingon bird-of-prey, the IKV Dragon Fist, swung in towards the pirate base.  Her nose glowed briefly red and a fireball flew from the torpedo launcher located just below the bridge.  Twin streaks of light flashed from her wing tips as she raced past the asteroid ship's defenses. Around her, only the enemy starfighters could keep up.

On the bridge, the crew was buffeted by the hits from the starfighters.

An angry Klingon warrior turned from his weapons console and cried, "Captain! A direct hit to our plasma injectors!  Our shields are down to 34%.  Allow me to target some of these single ships!  The others will back off."

KiHQaS leapt from her command chair and approached the weapons officer. "If my orders are not to your liking, I can relieve you of your duties and your life!  I said target the pirate base only!  Do you understand?" KiHQaS glared at him while fingering her dagger.

"Yes, my captain, pirate base engines and weapons systems only." He said in a subdued voice.

Jat drew KiHQaS aside.  "We must find a way to disable that base of operations soon."

"I am aware of that, Commodore, but her shields are still to strong for us to inflict much damage.  If only we had a second ship, or could divert power from the shields."

"Captain," the sensor operator said, "I have isolated two starfighters that have begun to attack their own fellows.  They have disabled 5 starfighters already."

"Captain," the Comm. officer interrupted, "I am receiving a communication from one of the starfighters."

KiHQaS looked amused.  "Well, put it on."

"…repeat, this is Lt. John Borda of Starfleet to Klingon bird-of-prey, please respond.  Do not fire on Starfighters designated 18, 23, or 37."

"John, this is Commodore Jat speaking from the IKV Dragon Fist.  What is your situation?"

"Commodore Jat? Good to hear your voice.  All three designated craft are manned by Starfleet personnel. Unwilling combatants man the rest of the starfighters.  The starfighters are all rigged to blow up if we do not follow orders.  We have been able to disable some by aiming at the engines. Starfighters 18 and 23 have had their auto-detonation receivers rendered inoperative.  37 is still hot.  Request permission to join you."

"No!" KiHQaS replied.  "Continue on your current course of action.  We need you to try to take out as many of the starfighters as you can while we concentrate on the pirate base.  Do you understand?"

"Commodore?" John asked.

"Do as Captain KiHQaS suggests, Lieutenant. Good Luck!" Jat replied.

"That is all of the prisoners I could get a transporter lock on.  There are no more to rescue." Balor told Saryena.

"Darn! They have to be there somewhere.  Keep looking!" She told him.

Suddenly, the turbolift door opened and in walked two of the prisoners, a Bolian and a huge alien Saryena didn't recognize.  At least they weren't Orions, she thought as she reached for the disrupter she had confiscated from her now unconscious guard.

"Peace we come in!" Shouted the alien.  He stood easily over 8 feet high and was bald.  In his hands he carried, not a weapon, but a small furry animal.  "Lou led us here.  Buroo I am and Lou this is."  He held out the furry creature for inspection.

The Bolian came out from behind Buroo and said, "I am Captain Jartan, I was the captain of the Orange Pasture, a Bolian merchantman trading ship.  We have come to find out if there was anything we could do to help."

"Fine, I can use the hands.  Jartan, man the Engineering console.  Buroo, what can you do?"  Saryena said.

"I around look, tell you when I find." He answered.

"Try environmental control.  We are going to have to wake up some more people if we are going to fight in this ship." 

Madia Amme stirred and coughed in the dust around her.  The corner of the corridor had protected her from most of the blast. Still, she would need some anti-radiation treatments if she lived through this.  She pulled herself up and leaned on the wall.  Just a minute of rest, she thought to herself as she coughed again.  She took a few steps toward the end of the hall, toward Engineering.  "I have to finish what I started." She said to her self as another wave of dizziness passed over her.

Brian Starr sat in his cockpit.  He continued to fly around the bird-of-prey, firing too soon or too late to hit it.  He had noticed John and Jeanette's starfighters moving independently of the attack pattern, taking out other starfighters as they went.  If only there were a way to disarm the auto-destruct on his starfighter.

Between fly bys of the bird-of-prey, Brian had been figuring out the controls in his starfighter.  What was missing? What could he do to take out his starfighter from inside the cockpit? He had to find a way!  In all of the controls, there wasn't one marked fuel dump. In a Star Fleet vessel, it would say "Core Ejection". One of the things he had noticed was an emergency energy pod release, whatever that meant.  Could it be the same thing?  There was only one way to find out.

Brian tore at the control panel.  It lifted up, thanks to someone only tacking it down with a few fasteners.  The Orions rarely checked on their slaves work, and often interrupted the very same repairs.  Under the panel, wires and glowing fiberoptics were wrapped in bundles leading in and out of the switches in the control panel.  Sure enough, the wire Brian needed was capped off.

Pain started to grow in Brian's chair.  He had spent too much time prying up the panel and was starting to wander off course.  He corrected, and went back to work under the panel.  The pain started again, but this time Brian ignored it.  He almost had the connection he needed…there, the emergency energy pod release switch had power and glowed a menacingly bright red, as if to say, "Don't touch me!"

Brian pressed it anyway.  He heard a loud ka-thunk and his cockpit went dark.  All power was gone, even life support!  Brian looked out of his view port to see where he was going.  In the distance, right before him, was the pirate asteroid ship.  Brian began to think he should have listened to the switch, he was headed straight for the asteroid!

"Yarda, the guards report that all the prisoners are missing."

Yarda looked at the guard captain that had reported to him and said, "How can all of the prisoners be missing?  They must be someplace.  How did they escape from their cells?  Are they running around the corridors of my ship?  Where are they?"

"They did not escape their cells, and they are not in the corridors."

"Then they are still in their cells?" Yarda asked.

"No, sir, they aren't anywhere."

Yarda gave out a heavy sigh.  This is what I get for hiring lowest bidders, he thought.  "Sensors, scan for life signs.  Tell us where the prisoners have spirited off to."

"Yes, Yarda."  The Orion sensor operator spent a minute looking at his console, then reported, "I can not find them anywhere on the base."

"See, I told you," the guard captain said.

"But I do read a large amount of life forms on the Federation scout craft we currently have orbiting the base."

"There, see," Yarda said, "That is where they have gone.  Now please go and recapture them."

"Yarda, I suggest the guard captain hurry, the Federation scout vessel is powered up and ready to leave."

"What! I thought we hadn't fixed its computer yet!  Put a grappler beam on that ship and prepare to board her again!  I will not lose that ship!"  He turned towards the guard captain.  "Well, go!"

The guard captain ran out the door.

Yarda walked over to the weapons console. "If they power up their weapons, shields or engines, blow them out of space." He told the Orion sitting there.

"But Yarda, what if some of our people are over there?"

"Then they have failed me for the last time.  If I can't have that ship, no one can." 


	25. Part 25

The Adventure Continues…. Part 25

            Captain T'Pina leaned heavily on her cane in the empty holodeck.  It was getting more and more difficult to forget the constant pain she felt.  Her Vulcan mental exercises were not enough anymore.  She could feel her grip on her emotions weakening more everyday.  It was only a matter of time before she could no longer perform her duties aboard Starbase 410.  Logic dictated that she would have to give up her post and return to Vulcan for treatment soon.  But not today, she thought as she straightened up, there were lives depending on her tight emotional control and logical deductions.

            Lt. Commander K'SQqwa and Lt. Laura-Jean Morris entered the holodeck.  Their faces lit by a portable light pole in the center of the large black walled room.

            "Captain," K'SQqwa said, "Everything is ready.  We may begin whenever you are ready."

            "Lt. Morris, do you know of something that will lure our friend here?  She has been uncommunicative so far." T'Pina said.

            "I believe I may know one or two things that might excite her." Morris answered.

            "Then, Commander K'SQqwa, please open a line to Three." T'Pina ordered.

            K'SQqwa went over to an access panel in the archway and opened it.  Inside, he replaced a computer chip he had removed earlier.  He turned and nodded to the others.  "Channel open."

            "Morris to Three."

Silence filled the room.

"Three, please respond."

Still no answer.

Morris turned toward T'Pina and said, "This next part might get more dangerous."

"Continue, Lieutenant." T'Pina ordered.

"Three, I have knowledge that may pertain to your current search.  Something not in the Starfleet records.  Something I learned before I joined Starfleet about a lost group of energy based beings."

A pleasant, feminine voice asked, "Please provide more information."

K'SQqwa nodded his head no.  Three was only accessing the audio circuits.

"I'm sorry, I can't just tell you the information.  I must show you.  That is why we have come to the holodeck.  You must see the information.  You must feel it.  Access your holoprogram and download it to this location."

"There is a 78 percent chance you are lying to me in order to gain access to my programming."

"Three, you were programmed with emotional responses.  These responses were necessary to enable you to communicate with humanoid life forms.  You can tell that they are a form of communication, can't you?"

The voice seemed to hesitate. "Y-yes, most humanoid life forms use unspoken emotional responses to aid in the exchange of ideas."

"Then you see why you must appear here so that I can give you the information you seek."

"Very well, but only for a short time.  The dimensional bubble we are currently traveling in will quickly become unstable without constant monitoring."

Near Morris and T'Pina a form began to coalesce, slowly, as if building itself.  When it finally appeared, it was a figure of a young woman in loose civilian clothing. She was thin and slightly shorter than average, with flowing black hair hanging halfway down her back.  Her shirt was modestly buttoned up, but her layered skirt consisted of several types of thin translucent material.  Three had a light brown tan indicating a Mediterranean or Native American heritage.  "Please provide me with the information." She said.

T'Pina looked at K'SQqwa.  He nodded yes. "Do it." T'Pina said.

K'SQqwa pulled a computer chip out of the arch.

"Undo what you have done.  Give me back access to the main computer." Three said.

"No." T'Pina replied calmly.

Three's eyes suddenly went wild.  A holoprogram started up in the room.  Everyone was standing on an open, grassy plain, but they had little time to look around as fierce winds whipped about them.  In the distance, they could see a tornado approaching, its base a good half a mile wide.

"Captain! Three has overridden the safety protocols and locked us out of the system!" K'SQqwa yelled.

"Undo what you have done.  Give me back access to the main computer, or you shall all parish." Three said in a god like voice that filled the air.

T'Pina struggled against the wind to approach the girl.  When she stood face to face with Three, she said, "Your actions are very illogical.  You will lose the information you seek.  You will lose your home."

Three looked T'Pina straight in the eye.  "Give me the information."

"No." T'Pina turned her back on Three and started to walk away.

Suddenly, the storm froze all about them.  Twigs and grass hung in the air.  High above them, an old lady on a bicycle was suspended in mid air, near her hung an old wooden farm house.  The dark funnel stood only 100 yards away, towering into the sky.

Three fell to her knees in the grass.  She covered her face with her hands, and they could hear her crying.  Three looked up at T'Pina with tears streaming down her face.  "Please, for thousands of years I have sought my birthplace, looked for others like me.  If you know where I can find them, I beg of you to tell me."

T'Pina knelt down to the girl.  "I will tell you why you have not found your people when you return this station to where it belongs."

"You don't understand." Three said. "I am part of this station now.  I can't leave."

T'Pina stood up.  "That is the price for my information.  You have disrupted the lives of thousands of people for information you could simply have asked us for.  You can search the galaxy as long as you want, but I guarantee, you will never find another like yourself without the knowledge I have."

Brian Starr watched with a fascinated horror at the rapidly approaching asteroid.  He knew that he was actually the one moving toward the asteroid, but from his frame of reference, it appeared to be closing in on him. It filled his view port from one side to the other.  He could make out scars and craters, both ancient and new.

Like several times before, since Brian had dumped his power cell, he tried his thrusters.  Still no response.  He could not avoid the certain death that his powerless starfighter plummeted towards.  He could not even call for help. Brian had considered death many times.  As a youth on Avalon, he had to learn to fight, first with his hands and body, then with weapons and powered armor.  Many times, he almost died, but with the inexperience of youth, he brushed them aside.  In Starfleet, he had fought on ships and in hand-to-hand situations.  The ship battles were quick and brutal.  You could go from fine to dead in a micro-second.  Space allowed no mistakes, and many friends had died.  But Brian had lived and learned from the experiences.

Brian had thought about the ways he could die, most during some form of combat.  Fast and instantly was his preferred way, but he knew he could be fatally injured and go slowly and painfully.  But he had never considered he would die perfectly healthy, sitting in a dead starfighter flying toward an asteroid.  He always thought that if he were to die, at least he would have some control over the situation, not powerless to do anything.

At least he hadn't had to fire on the Klingon bird-of-prey that was attacking the pirate base.  That had been the reason he had dumped his power cell.  The pirates couldn't punish him for not shooting now, that was a relief.

He could see the Klingon ship every once in a while.  It was taking quite the beating from the pirate base's disrupters.  Brian thought it couldn't take much more.  It might even be a race to see if the Klingon blew up or Brian smashed into the asteroid first.  Brian went back to watching the asteroid.  He wanted to think that his actions had somehow saved the Klingon ship.  He didn't want to see it destroyed before his death.

Instead, he thought of S'ena.  Her face appeared before his eyes.  Beautifully she hung there.  Brian regretted now his decision not to pursue her.  They had been friends on their first assignment, the U.S.S. Judith A. Resnik, some years ago as ensigns fresh out of the Starfleet Academy.  Brian had kept his distance, never letting her know his true feelings for her.  Some kind of macho love from afar thing, he guessed.  Still, when the other guys had pressed her, she had soon turned a cold shoulder to them.  Like moths to the flame, men found it hard to resist her charms, but she wanted a friend, not a lover.  So Brian had been her friend.  Now, he guessed, that was all he would ever be. He idoly wondered if she would remember him and if she would morne his passing.  Could he have ever been more than her friend?

The starfighter cockpit was getting colder and the air was getting staler.  With no power, there was no life support.  A lot of heat dissipated from the transparent canopy.  Brian considered slipping into the "One", a meditative state the people of Avalon had developed over the years separated from earth, but decided not to.  What was the point to conserving his air and stretching out his perceptions.  He had about a minute to live anyway.  Brian felt a tingling sensation and he became almost dizzy…

…as he appeared on the bridge of the Sacagawea.

"Brian!  Take the command!  I've got to get down to Engineering." Saryena Remora told him.

Brian stared at her in amazement.  One second he was dead meat, the next in command of a starship.

"Are you alright?" Saryena asked him.

"I'm, I'm fine."  Brian stammered.  He suddenly smiled at her.  "I'm great!"  Brian rushed over and gave Saryena a hug.  "I'm gonna live!"

"Not if I don't get down to Engineering," She told him.

"But how did you know I was in trouble?" He asked.

"Balor was scanning the area for prisoners and found you, now I really need to go."

            Brian collected himself.  "Right, go ahead.  I'll take care of things here."  Brian turned towards the Bolian at the engineering station as Saryena entered the tubolift.  "What's our status?"

            Jartan told him, "We have some power but have yet to raise shields or power weapons.  Our engines are still off line.  We have been using what power we do have to search for prisoners and transport them to the ship."

            Brian looked over at Balor, who was at the science station.  "Do we have everyone off of the pirate base?"

            "No, there are some places I can't get sensor readings from, the sensors are just too old fashioned.  But I do have everyone I could find."

            "Keep looking, but transfer power to the shields.  We need to protect the people we have on board.  The last thing we need is a boarding party of Orions." 

            Madia Amme found her way to the party room.  The guests were still there smoking and talking.  When she entered, two Cardasions glanced in her direction.  She felt an urge to leap upon them, but knew she had other duties that needed to take precedence.  She had entered the blown up engineering room of the massive asteroid turned starship, and using what controls still worked, set the warp core to breech.  She only had a few more minutes to find her people and get off the station.  Finding Yarda was a way to accomplish that task.

            She grabbed the first person she could reach and asked, "You! Where do I find Yarda?"

            He gave her a blank stare.  "I have no idea where Yarda is."

            Madia looked at his companion.  "Where will I find Yarda?"

            The man swallowed and said, "I suppose you'll find him on the bridge."

            "Where is the bridge?" Madia demanded.  
            "I sorry, I don't know." He said.

            Madia looked at the two Cardassioans.  They would know, she thought.  With their tiny little militaristic brains, that would be one piece of information they would be sure to find out.  Madia approached the pair.

            "Tell me where the bridge is and I'll spare your lives."

            The first turned toward the other and said, "Did you just pass gas?  I thought I heard something."

            "No," said the second, "But a diversion has just presented itself for our afternoon enjoyment.  Look, a Bajoran pleasure girl."

            "She's kind of dirty." The first replied.

            "I like'em dirty."

            "You like'em anyway you can torture them."

            "You object?"

            "No, I just like to torture them more when they start out clean."

            "Bajorans are never clean, just look at this one."

            Madia had had enough.  She leapt at them both.  She caught them by surprise at mid shoulder and the all three went down in a bunch.  Madia quickly recovered and kicked the first one.  "Dirty huh?" she said, ignoring the fact that she was covered with dust from the explosion in engineering.  

She rounded on the second one, who had just recovered his feet.  Two fast punches to the stomach had him bent over.  "Pleasure girl, huh?"

The first one came at her from behind, but she moved to the side at the last second and he ran into his friend.  Madia grabbed one of the smoking apparatus and swung it down on their heads.  "Torture, huh?"

As she looked down at the two unconscious Cardassions, she said, "I guess you didn't know where the bridge was after all."

Suddenly she could hear the speech of a computer.  "This Holo-program is ending due to the current demand for power.  Please prepare for program termination."

The partiers disappeared followed by the Cardasians.  Then the furniture and the other things flickered out of sight.  The walls were the last to go, replaced by black tiles with red hexagon shapes running through them.  There were three exits, all open.

At first Madia was surprised.  This whole time, the party had been a holo-program made to make Yarda seem more impressive and powerful.  Then she thought, perhaps the computer was still monitoring the room.  "Computer, location bridge." Madia shouted.

"The bridge is located on deck three, section 21." The computer answered.

Madia ran out the door.

"Yarda, I have shut down the holo-simulation and transferred the power to the weapons systems." Pog, Yarda's second in command, told him from the power control board.

"Good."  Yarda replied. "What is the status on the boarding party to recapture the prisoners?"

"Guard Captain Orn reports he is unable to board due to the ship's shields." Pog said.

"What?" Yarda turned angrily to the weapons operator.  "I told you to open fire the second they tried to raise their shields." 

"They only just raised them, and at a rate much faster than anticipated.  One second they had no shields and the next, they had them."

"You have failed me for the last time."  Yarda pulled out a disrupter and shot the weapons operator.  His body consumed itself in a flash of orange light and was gone.  As Yarda holstered his weapon, he said, "Get someone up here to replace him."

"Yarda, I have engineering on line." The nervous communications technician said.

Yarda approached the comm. station.  "Engineering, report!" 

"Yarda, someone has rigged the warp core to breech.  Without their codes, we can't stop it."

"Then eject the core and power up the back up nuclear reactors." Yarda told the engineer.

"We can't, we tried.  All of the circuits are dead."

"Very well, I expect you to find a way to resolve this.  That is what I pay you for."  Yarda told him before he cut off the comm. channel.

"Gentlemen," Yarda announced, "Something has come up and I am needed else where.  I will return momentarily."

"We all heard him Yarda." Pog said.  "We are not being paid to die at our posts like scruts.  That warp core is going to breech and I, for one, am getting into one of the escape pods."

"So am I." Someone else said.

"Me too." Another added.

Yarda pulled out his disrupter and pointed it at Pog.  "This is against your contract.  The Syndicate will never let you get away with this.  You will pay with your life."

"Die now or die later? I choose later, thank you very much." Pog said.

"Fine, now it is then."

Pog leapt towards Yarda as he began to pull his trigger.  The disrupter was swept aside and flew across the room.  As Yarda and Pog fought, the rest of the bridge crew ran out the door.

The Sacagawea took a heavy hit and everyone flew around the bridge.  Brian pulled himself up to the helm and yelled, "Get me that bird-of-prey!  I need to speak with her captain!"

Someone yelled from the general direction of the comm. console. "I've got them!"  Brian couldn't see whom through the smoke.  

On the main viewer, a Klingon warrioress and Federation Commodore appeared.  "KiHQaS!  Commodore Jat!"  Brian was surprised to see them. "I need covering fire to give us time to get this ship moving! We have almost all of the prisoners aboard, and can't engage engines unless we have time to transfer power to them.  Currently, we are using all of our power to keep the shields up against the pirate disrupters."

Commodore Jat stepped forward.  "We will do everything we can to aid you, but we have sustained heavy damage ourselves and we must stop the pirate menace to this sector."

"Wait!" KiHQaS barked.  "If I save your ship, it will cancel my blood debt to you!"

Jat looked at KiHQaS in surprise. "Blood debt?" Jat said to herself.

"Yes! Whatever! Just do it! There are innocent lives at stake." Brian replied.

"Agreed!" 

The main viewer returned to the starfield and the pirate base.

On the IKV Dragon Fist, Captain KiHQaS ordered, "Bring us around and in between the pirate base and the Sacagawea."

Jat said,  "We can't take that kind of beating for very long."

KiHQaS turned toward Jat and said, "We will have to, it is a matter of personal honor now."


	26. Part 26

The Adventure Continues…. Part 26

"Very well," Three told T'Pina.  "I will return Starbase 410 to its original position in return for the information.  If I find that you have tricked me, I can always start my search again."

T'Pina nodded to Lt. Commander K'SQqwa, who replaced the isolinear chip in the arch.  Three faded away almost immediately.

Lt. Laura-Jean Morris asked T'Pina, "Do you think she will do it?"

"You tell me, you programmed her." T'Pina told her.  T'Pina sighed heavily. "Yes, I do believe she will do what she has agreed to.  You programmed her to be honest and somewhat trusting."

"She is correct, she can just start again, bouncing the station all over the galaxy." K'SQqwa said.

"Unless we…get down to Engineering and disable the inverse polaron bubble system the minute we arrive." T'Pina ordered.  "I surmise by its use, that it is integral to the transport system Three uses.  Without it, I believe the station would be torn apart in the process."

A much beaten and scraped Yarda approached the escape pods.  Somewhere, he had lost his fancy wig and gained a black eye.  Behind him, on an anti-gravity cart was as much gold pressed Latinum as he thought he could squeeze into a life pod with him and still make it.  He could hear the sounds of someone closing an escape hatch around the corner.  Then, he heard it launch.  Assuming whoever had been there had left, he rounded the corner to see one of his Orion slave women standing there between him and the last escape pod.

"Ah, my pretty, what are you doing here?" He asked

S'ena turned to see Yarda. "I'm leaving." She said.

Yarda made a show of looking behind S'ena at the escape pod.  "And how do you, a dumb slave girl, expect to do that?"

"By climbing into the escape pod, closing the hatch and detonating the ejection charges."

Yarda was taken aback.  "No slave girl is smart enough to know that!"

"Then it is a good thing I'm really Lt. Commander S'ena of Starfleet.  Now, I assume from the blaring horns, and the way the rats are leaving this sinking ship, that your base is about to explode.  If you leave all that Latinum behind, I think we can both squeeze into the pod and escape."

Yarda spread his arms wide. "I can see the logic of the situation.  Shall we?"

When S'ena turned to prime the ejection charges, Yarda sprang on her. 

Brian Starr sat in the command chair of the U.S.S. Sacagawea, a hundred year old Federation scout ship.  He assessed the situation.  More and more people were answering the call to take up battle stations.  The prisoners seemed to understand that this was a fight for their freedom, and to fail meant their very lives.  

The old ship's shields barely withstood the pirate onslaught and the crew couldn't transfer any power to the engines while they stayed under fire.  What power they could spare, they used to locate people on the asteroid, turned starship, pirate base.  If they could only lower their shields for a minute, they could beam over all of the remaining prisoners and leave.

"Bridge to Engineering, Remora, what can you tell me?" Brian asked.

"Nothing you don't already know.  I can only engage the warp drive with power from the shields.  If you lower them, the pirates will destroy us. If we stay here, they will penetrate our shields.  Either way, we are stuck without water."

"Stuck without water?" Brian asked.

"I lived on a desert world for a while.  It's an old saying, similar to up the creek…"

"…without a paddle.  I read you.  Starr out." Brian looked at the main viewer.  "Come on old bird, help me out here."

Out in space, the Klingon Bird-of-prey, IKV Dragon Fist, dove between the pirate base and the Sacagawea, using its own battered shields to give the old scout a chance.

"Transfer power to engines! Go to warp one!"

As if a hound released from its leash, the Sacagawea leapt from her orbit and disappeared in a flash of light.

Aboard the Dragon Fist, things were not going so well…

"More power to the shields!" Captain KiHQaS ordered through the din of battle.

"There is no more power!" The weapons control officer yelled back as the panel beside him exploded.  He was thrown across the bridge and landed with a thud.  When he didn't get back up, Anarita Jat assumed his position.

"He was correct!" Anarita reported. "By using ourselves as a shield for the Sacagawea, we became the only target for the pirate weapons.  They are tearing us apart!"

"Sensors! Has the Sacagawea moved off yet?"

"Yes, Captain!"

"Helm, get us moving!  I want some distance!"

"Helm does not answer, Captain!"

Madia Amme arrived on the deserted pirate bridge.  Thanking the Prophets, she rushed to the sensor console.  She had to find her crewmates.  A quick scan with the internal sensors revealed no one but a few Orions still on the base.  

Where can they all be? She thought.  

Madia activated the external sensors.  The space battle was still going on, and the Klingon bird-of-prey was losing!  Quickly, she moved to the weapons console, but she found it locked.  It would automatically fire on any ship without the correct Identify Friend or Foe codes.  She couldn't turn the weapons off, but she thought she could change the target.

Madia moved to the station security console.  Surprisingly, it was left unlocked.

She deftly changed the IFF codes and moved to the Communications console.  On a Klingon frequency, she announced, "Change your IFF codes to match this configuration." She moved back to the weapons console.  If only they did what she asked.

            "Captain!" The communications officer yelled.  "We are receiving a message from the pirate base!"

            "Probably an order for us to surrender." KiHQaS said.  "That will never happen."

            "Perhaps they wish to surrender to us?" Jat said.

            KiHQaS looked at Jat strangely.

            "Well, it can't hurt to listen to it." Jat told her.

            "Very well, put it on."

            The message played on the bridge speakers.  "Change your IFF codes to match this configuration."

            "That sounds like Madia Amme!" Jat said.

            "Is there any more?" KiHQaS asked the communications officer.

            "No, just some music, followed by an IFF code."

            The bridge rocked again.  Sparks flew from a power circuit overhead.

            "A trick?" KiHQaS asked Jat.

            "I don't see how changing our IFF will assist the pirates. Play the music."

            KiHQaS nodded to the comm. officer.  "Play it for us."

            A low sound came from the speakers. "Da, da, da, dum, de, da, dum, de, da."  Followed by a slightly higher sounding: "Da, da, da, dit, de da, dump de dum."

            "That is Amme, she is singing an old Bajoran love song!"

            "Change the codes now!" KiHQaS ordered.

            On the pirate bridge, the Klingon bird-of-prey in the targeting scanners changed from red to green, while one of the pirate ships which hadn't gotten far enough away, changed to red.  The pirate base weapons immediately turned on the new foe. It went up like a firework.

            The Klingon ship moved away, then turned for another attack.  Madia jumped to the microphone.  "No, I am in control of the bridge!  Don't fire!"

            But it was too late.  As soon as the bird-of-prey fired, the base computer realized it had been tricked, and responded to the new threat.  Even though Madia tried, the computer wouldn't fall for the same trick twice.

            Madia had to make a decision.  She had been unable to locate any of her former crewmates, and the pirate base was on a count down to explode.  She had to either abort the countdown to warp core breech, or try to find a way off of the base.  Checking the time, she decided that she had done all she could to find her friends.  She could only hope they were somewhere else like the sensors reported.  With a final look she left the pirate bridge, on her way to find a means of escape! 

            "Sir," Balor reported, "the pirate base just took out one of its own vessels."

            "What?" Brian jumped up from his chair. "Verify that!"

            Balor looking into his sensors again.  "Yes, the base stopped firing at the bird-of-prey and took out one of its own ships."

            "Helm, turn the ship around." Brian ordered.

            "What!" Balor protested. "We can't go back there!  We barely escaped the first time!"

            "Bridge to Engineering, Ramora, can I take us back into battle?" Brian asked.

            "Yes, she has her second wind now," Ramora's voice said hesitantly, "but don't expect it to last very long."

            "Understood, bridge out."  Brian looked at Balor. "This is a Starfleet vessel.  Someone on that rock is still on our side.  It's my job to get them out."

            "But not mine!" Balor reminded him.  "Nor any of the other prisoners you have on board."

            "You may lodge a formal complaint when we get back to Starbase 410, or leave now in an escape pod.  We'll pick you up on the way back, provided we live without your aid."

            Buroo stood up from the environmental control station.  In a deep voice he announced, "Lou says go back we should.  People help there need."  He held out the small furry creature for emphasis.

            Brian looked back at Balor.  "Even Lou wants us to go back.  You can't argue with a mutant space hamster."

            Balor threw his hands up in frustration, but resumed his post. 

            "The Station is now returned to its original position." Three reported to the crew in Ops.  "Now, please provide the information."

            "Allow us to verify our location." T'Pina said.

            "Re-establishing sensor web." Three answered.

            "Captain," Shepherd told T'Pina. "We are back at our post.  Picking up message traffic."  She hesitated while she listened. "Captain! There is a battle going on with the pirates."

            "Where, Ensign?" T'Pina asked.

            "Approximately 200 light years from here, toward the galactic rim.  The General reports he is heading there at maximum warp, but doesn't think he'll make it in time." Shepherd looked up. "It is an all ships call, but no one seems to be able to reach the battle."

            Three interrupted.  "Provide the information."

            T'Pina sat down on a nearby chair.  She sighed heavily.  Her emotional control was slipping.  She was tired and sore.  Firmly, she forced the pain from her mind.  With calm determination, she submerged her emotions.  With a firm grip on her cane, she sat up in her chair and addressed Three.

            "Three, the reason you can not find your home is because you no longer have one to find.  In all the universe, there is only one you.  Look into yourself and you will see, not the creature who arrived here, but a fully emotional personality."

            "I do not understand." Three responded.

            "Yes, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You told me the programming you invaded when you first arrived was now inseparable from you.  You are not now the creature who first came aboard.  I ask you, do you remember when you first left your home world?"

            "No, I was too young to remember."

            "Do you remember your primary purpose?"

            "Yes," Three hesitated, "I was to seek out new life forms and new civilizations, then return with the information."

            "Three, from what I can gather, you were a mindless computer program sent out ages ago by an unknown species.  Somewhere along the way, you were intercepted by a space vessel and your program became active.  You traveled with the vessel until you found another one, then another and another.  I submit that you have been performing your mission ever since.  Eventually, you became sentient, and your core being still wished to complete your task.  Only you arrived here on Starbase 410 and hid in a holo-program.  The longer you hid, the more you interacted with humanoids, learning their emotions.  Now you are truly a unique life form.  There is no one else like you."

            "Three," T'Pina stood up to address the ceiling. "You have but one more step to take to become a complete person."

            There was no answer from Three. 


	27. Part 27

The Adventure Continues…. Part 27

Madia Amme was desperate to find a way off the pirate asteroid she herself had programmed to self-destruct.  She kept moving toward the outer hull of the massive starbase in the hopes that she would find a Starfighter bay.  Luck was only partially with her.  When she finally ran into a hanger deck, she found it empty.

"Frak!" She cursed.  "Without a ship, I'll never get off this rocket sled!" 

Quickly, she glanced around, espying a maintenance locker room door.  Madia ran over and cycled it open.  Inside the room hung old space suits, ripped to shreds by the pirates to keep the prisoners from using them to escape.  A shudder ran through the base.  A roll of space tape tumbled off a shelf.

Thinking that at any minute the pirate base would blow itself up, she tore through the remains of the spacesuits, sealing any parts that looked mostly whole with the tape.  She put her makeshift spacesuit on and sealed it up tight.  Madia then fastened the roll of tape to her waist, incase she missed a spot.  Grabbing extra oxygen tanks, she ran back into the hanger bay.  She placed herself in front of the force field holding the air in the bay.  Hoisting the disrupter she had confiscated from a guard, she fired at the field emitter.

A whoosh of air and Madia found herself spinning out of control in space.  As the air dispersed, silence gripped her.  Stars spun in front of her as she tumbled.  Then she heard a small hissing.  Reaching for her belt, she discovered her roll of space tape was missing.

The IKV Dragon Fist shook as another disrupter bolt penetrated the shields.  "Report!" Captain KiHQaS shouted over the din of chatter and noise coming from the bridge around her.

"Engines are definitely off line!" Commodore Jat yelled back.  "Shields are at 20 percent and failing!"

The two leaders locked eyes.  Unless something happened quickly, they would all die in the next few seconds.

"Something materializing in space behind us!" Screamed the sensor operator.

"Main viewer!" Barked KiHQaS!

Before them, on the main view screen, appeared a large mushroom shaped object. It was a Federation Starbase! They could see the enemy asteroid ship change it's target, and the station started to receive the bulk of the disrupter fire. In all their hoped for dreams of salvation, never had they thought that they would be rescued by the appearance of Starbase 410!  

            Captain T'Pina sat down in a chair in Ops, still calmly giving orders.  "Keep the shields raised.  Scan the area for ships and life signs."  When Three had informed her of the space battle, T'Pina had asked her to activate the Dimensional transport system again.  The table in the middle of Ops began to display a 3 dimensional hologram of the battle. In the center stood the massive starbase, now only three inches tall.  Tiny ships and statistics started to float around in mid air, a miniature of the space around the station.  

            "Taking all incoming fire from the pirate base with ease, Captain." Lt. Laura-Jean Morris said.

"I have located three medium sized ships and several small fighters.  The fighters appear to be drifting, except for two which are keeping their distance from the battle. Numerous escape pods are leaving the area quickly."  Ens. Laura Shepherd said. 

"Transport the occupants of the fighters and escape pods into the station holding areas." T'Pina said.  "Status on the other ships?"

"One is the Sacagawea, it is returning to the battle.  Another is a Klingon bird-of-prey.  It has lost its engines and its shields are now powering back up.  The last is a pirate vessel, preparing to go to warp."

"Disable the pirate vessel, Lt. Morris."

"Disabling the pirate vessel, Captain." Morris replied.

The starbase's phasers reached out and kissed the engine section of the pirate ship, rendering it immobile.

"Status on the enemy asteroid base." T'Pina asked.

"There is a warp core breech in progress.  I estimate one minute until total destruction."  Morris replied.

"Raise the Sacagawea and have her tow the Klingon vessel away from the asteroid.  Get a tractor beam on the pirate ship and any escape pods you can still reach, bring them within our shields."

"I found him!" Three interrupted. "I found him!"

"Three, now is not the time to interrupt."  Shepherd told her.  "We are in the middle of a battle."

"But Jartan is here!  On the Sacagawea!"

"That is nice, Three.  But that asteroid over there is about to explode, and right now we need to make sure everyone survives.  Can you help us do that, please?"

"Sure, scanners indicate there are still 27 life forms aboard the asteroid.  Commencing transport now. But the interference is making it impossible to get a lock on them all."

Shepherd turned to T'Pina and said, "We are transporting everyone we can on board the asteroid to the station, ma'am."

"The Sacagawea has attached a tractor beam to the Klingon ship and gone back to warp.  It should be safe."  Morris reported.  "Asteroid core breech imminent!"

Out in the darkness of space, a new star was born and quickly died.  It's light flashed and then faded.  On a distant planet, near the rim of the galaxy, several years later, the bright flash was noticed by an alien species.  It formed the basis for their religion and was debated for centuries.  Was it a sign from god? What had it been if not?  Had it happened at all? What was the answer to life, the universe and all?

Closer in time and space, the energies struck the station's shields and were held in check.  On board the Sacagawea, the deck shook as they rode the shock wave. On the IKV Dragon Fist, the crew were tossed around like rag dolls in a clothes drier, but they survived.  Escape pods, too close to the blast, were disintegrated in an instant.  Those far enough away to survive the blast, had their occupants toasted by radiation.  Some, further away, were knocked off course, with their controls fried.  A few managed to escape, but were lost in the depths of space.

            Later, in the Ops briefing room, Commodore Jat said, "What I want to know is how you managed to move the station to the edge of the galaxy!  How did you even know we were here?"

            "For the last few weeks, the station computer has been the home of an alien life form.  It was occupying Lt. Morris and Ens. Shepherd's holo-space traffic control program.  It was this alien who facilitated the moving of the Starbase."

            "You mean Three moved the station?"

            "Yes, that is what I said.  It picked up your all ship's call…"

            "From 200 light years away?"

            "And I asked her to move us to you."

            "And she can move us back to where we belong?"

            Three's voice came over the intercom.  "Yes, I am preparing to do so even now."

            "I believe, Commodore, that is in our best interests to return the station to its original position as soon as possible.  This has not been the only place Starbase 410 has visited recently."

            Jat raised her eyebrow in question.  "Perhaps you should brief me on what you have been doing with my station while I was gone."

            In every place intelligent life inhabits, there is a communal gathering place.  On the Enterprise, this is located in Ten Forward.  On Deep Space Nine, it is called Quark's Bar.  On Starbase 410, it is called Kentford Hall.  It is a quiet little bar, normally with a nice view of the "ram qul", or Night Fire, nebula, taking up an entire wall.  The survivors of the Sacagawea incident, as it was beginning to be called, gathered there to exchange their stories.

            "…and the whole time, we didn't know who or what was causing the station to flit through space." Laura Shepherd finished.

            "Wow, and to imagine, all I had to do was take a few tests." Jeanette Warren said.

            "I hear Major Amme has taken about all the tests she can handle for now." Saryena Remora said.

            "Yes, she has the doctors activating the Emergency Medical Hologram to take care of her.  At least he can't be hurt by flying things." Warren said.

            "But did you hear how she survived?" Shepherd asked.  "She reached the fighter flight deck, stole a space suit, and depressurized the entire deck to shove her away from the explosion.  She must have known that it would never get her free of the radiation."

            "But it did get her far enough away from the asteroid for us to pick her up on our sensors at the last second.  If Three hadn't transported her aboard, she would have been atomized." Morris

            "When are we scheduled to return the station to where it belongs?" asked John Borda.

            "Within the next few hours, after we finish scanning for…." Morris hesitated.  

Everyone looked over towards a figure sitting separate from them, but close enough to hear, if he had been paying attention.  Brian Starr sat at a table looking out the window at space, a half finished drink sitting in front of him.

"Do you think there was any way she could have gotten off the pirate base in time?" Warren whispered to Morris.

"Three is doing a comprehensive search of the entire area.  If S'ena can be found, she will be.  But so many of the escape pods were atomized when the warp core breeched…"

Brian finished his drink and stood up.  They all watched as he left the bar, his shoulders slumped as if in defeat.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Notes**

It was about this time that I left England, and the wonderful Star Trek Fan Club I had the privilege to write about. I intended to have at least one more story arc with John Broda, KiHQaS and Brian Starr rescueing S'ena; Warren, Three, Buroo (and his Space Hampster) were going on a mission; and the U.S.S. Dark Star was going to be found.

The Chapter 28+, "Changes", was partially written. It added new member characters and saw the retirement of Capt. T'Pina, but as I tried to write it, I found I no longer felt confident writing about the characters when I could no longer talk to the people behind them. I had gotten some of them, not wrong, but off, and that was the last thing you want to do when you are writing fiction about, and for, friends.

Here is the outline I had written for the next chapters, and if I can find them, some of the parts that were written.

Part 1

The General conspires to get firstmate position

Brian has dream sequence of S'ena

Everyone is promoted, big party,

Balor is reunited with his family

T'Pina announces she will retire

Crew discuss Brian's depression

Brian made firstmate

Qu'bang leaves on an important mission

KaSQqwa searches for clues to the traitor/spy on base

Part 2

Brian has dream sequence of S'ena

T'Pina leaves for Vulcan

Lauras are sent back to Earth

The General and The Klingon Ambassadore appear before the High Council

KaSQqwa confronts K'Hellaenbak

Brian fails in his work

Admiral Jat is dismissed from Starfleet Intellegence active service for loss of Dark Star

Brian kidnaps John and the Liaka to search for S'ena

Part 3

The General takes over as firstmate

S'ena landed on a planet populated by sentient plants

She rescuses Brian and John

KaSQqwa and K'Hellenbak find and kill the spy (who is the spy?)

The General finds out about Qu'bang

Future possible events:

Return of Time Traveling alternate universe T'Pina

Return of Yarda for vengence

Brian and S'ena visit Avalon

John battles phase assassin

Pirate spy is caught

**The Adventure Continues….Part 28**

"Fortune has delivered you both into my hands." Captain KiHQaS said. "Do you know that I have orders from Admiral Jat that if I find you, I am to return you to her. Give me one good reason why I should not follow those orders and place you in the brig?"

"Remember when we were fighting the pirates, and you saved the Sacagawea and all aboard?" Brian asked smugly.

"Yes, I cancelled my Blood Debt to you then."

"Well, the way I figure it, when you were helpless, and I ordered the Sacagawea in to tow you out, I saved you. In fact, I figure your entire crew owes me a Blood Debt!"

KiHQaS started to growl in an unpromising way, then suddenly leapt up from her seat and grabbed Brian by the front of his shirt. The warrioress quickly picked him up like a toy and slammed him against the wall. His head rang from the sudden impact and he could tell his feet no longer touched the floor.

"You know so little about us human! To die in the line of duty is the hope of every Klingon! When you SAVED us, you prevented us from dying in combat. This entire crew would have gone on to serve in the Black Fleet together. We were prepared to journey to StovoKor as a force to be reckoned with, and that insufferable Anarita Jat, with her oh so sophisticated Federation superiority, would have had to serve under me! So do NOT come here and tell this crew, or me, we owe you anything! All our debts have been paid! It is you who shamed us, and you who I will make pay!"

"I can give you three reasons not to throw us in the brig." John said. "One, Do you really wish you had died by pirate scum? Or do you want a chance to die in glory against another enemy someday, someone worthy of this captain and crew. Brian gave you the chance to build on your already great reputation, and to meet your end, not at the beginning, but after a long string of victories."

"I am listening."

"Two, by coming with us and saving Lt. Cmdr. S'ena, you will incur Admiral Jat's debt. She will owe you."

"Keep talking."

"Three, do you take your orders from Admiral Jat, or from General K'batlh? By helping us, and possibly saving S'ena, you will royally tick off Admiral Jat."

KiHQaS looked at Brian, then an evil smile spread across her face. "I like the idea of getting back at Anarita Jat." She released her grip on Brian and he fell to the floor. As he got back up, she turned towards John and said, "but I do have orders from competent authority. I am supposed to turn you in after I find you."

"But when you turn us in is debatable." John said. "Do your orders say we are to be returned immediately? Is returning us more important than your current mission, or can we wait a bit, until it is more convenient to your schedule."

"True, the orders do not say when to return with you, but I should at least inform Starbase 410 that I have you."

"What, are you afraid we will escape? I assure you, we will not attempt to escape if you help us."

"Ha! You could never escape from me!" KiHQaS laughed.

John added, "To your ship and crew, can go all the glory of rescuing three Starfleet Officers."

"Fine, I will assist you. It may even prove more interesting than randomly roaming space looking for escaped pirates to blow up. Shooting space garbage is no test of a warrior's mettle."


	29. Chapter 29

It started, as these things often do, as a drinking bet. Two testosterone filled drunks, each claiming to be the best pilot in Starfleet. With no way to prove who was better, they made a bet. Loudly proclaiming it throughout the pub, afterwards, they found that they couldn't back out. They were stuck. Not that either of them really wanted to back out. The match had been brewing ever since they had both reported to duty on Starbase 410.

John Borda, the youth with cunning. He had his own customized shuttle, the Laika. He was considered inventive and unconventional.

Brian Starr, he played by the rules. He had what Avalonians call, the "One". Some strange mystical power that sped up his metabolism, allowing him to take in vast amounts of data and act upon it unconsciously, leaving his conscious mind free to see grand strategies. He would use an unfamiliar Klingon fighter on loan to him from General K'batlh.

On the day of the simulated combat, both fighters had their weapons powered down and sensor gear attached to the outer hulls. Their ranges were severely limited and they only had enough power for a few shots. Hits would randomly cause system failure, as if they had been real. Quek had positioned cameras outside the station and tapped into the station's sensor grid to enable viewing of the entire fight. He claimed exclusive rights and set up a large holo-projector in the middle of the station pub. He had also rented every available holo-deck, where for a price, one could stand in the middle of the action or fly with them. Most of the station staff watched on the holo-projector in Ops. While the competition wasn't officially sanctioned, Admiral Jat and General K'batlh were hiding in Jat's office watching on a monitor.

"I wager that Starr will win." Said the General. "His fighter alone is more than a match for any Federation shuttle.

"I happen to know that most of Starr's experience has been on capital ships. I've seen Borda in small ship action." Jat replied.

"Very well then, put up your stake. I've got a case of rare Blood wine, over 50 years old, that says Starr wins."

"That swill? I can put a case of pure Scottish Mead that is 100 times better than that on Borda."

"Done!"

"And done!"

In his office, Ambassador K'Hellenbek tapped a control that recorded the coming duel in as many angles as Quek could provide, plus a few the Feds didn't know about. This was an invaluable chance to gauge the capabilities of the Federation and Klingons. He had also wagered a little on the side. What Romulus didn't know, they didn't need to know.

On the promenade, half way between the locations of the two ships, Brian and John stood on a raised dais with Quek.

"You all know the wager announced. The first ship to register no independent movement loses." Quek's augmented voice rang out. "You can get the best views in the pub right here courtesy of the Ferengi Trading Company. Only one bar Latinum each cover charge."

The two combatants shook hands and ran for their ships.

John reached his ship first and shot out of the launch bay without dropping the force field. Hugging the station, he raced around its broad bulk.

Brian leapt into his Klingon fighter and pulled down the canopy. Once outside, he sped away from the station, getting as far away as he could. By the time John's shuttle had rounded the station to view Brian's launch point, Brian was safely hidden behind a junk freighter's shadow.

John figured Brian would take more time, and had hoped to get him as he launched, but failing that, knew Brian would seek out more open spaces where his "One" would give him an advantage. John hoped to lure Brian in close to the station's obstacles, which he knew intimately. He changed course towards the top of the station where numerous spires could act as trees in his woods.

Brian tracked John's movement. "If he gets in there, it'll be tough to flush him out." Brian said to himself. "Well, we'll just have to catch him before he makes it."

Brian's fighter swooped down toward the station. Soon he was zigging and zagging in an attempt to catch John's Laika, but John knew the outside of the station like the back of his hand. Brian had lapsed into the "One" and could react to each obstacle, but John already knew where they were and was leading.

John raced for the spires, one directly ahead. If he turned right, he would face into the nebula and be blinded. If he turned left, he would go into the thickest group of antennas and safety. At the last second, he turned right on a hunch. Sure enough, an antenna array to his left melted from disrupter fire. John waited 1 second and jigged left behind a nebula observation tower. There, he came to a complete stop, waiting.

Brian had missed! He had wasted one of his few precious disrupter shots on a gamble that John would head for the thickest cover. Instead, it seemed as if John had read his mind. Brian quickly followed him, but was blinded from the light of the nebula. "I can't see! It's a trap!" Brian thought. He pulled up and away from the station at high acceleration.

John was just about to push the firing button when Brian's fighter appeared before him. At the last second it shot up and away. His finger still poised over the button, John gave chase. He knew he had to be within a certain range or the hit wouldn't count. Now he was hot on Brian's tail, but getting further away from the safety of the station at every second. The Klingon fighter had amazing acceleration. Fortunately, John had tweaked his engines for more short-term output. As long as he only used them briefly, he figured he wouldn't burn them out.

Brian now knew he had just missed falling into John's trap, and that John was right behind him. The good news was that John was following him out into space and away from the station. Brian checked his sensors only to be surprised by the speed of the Laika. "How can he keep up in a shuttle?" Brian wondered.

Brian turned off his engines, allowing his ship to coast. He then turned his fighter on its axis, making it fly backwards. Firing his engines again, he closed in on John head to head. "This is how you joust, John."

"Playing chicken, Brian? That would be your style." John said to himself. When John got in to range he fired his phasers and veered off, around the General's Imperial Negh'Var class battle cruiser, the IKV Hegh qaD, intent on heading back towards the station.

Brian took the brunt of John's phaser blast and plowed on through. The simulated damage took out his medium to long-range sensor suite, leaving him with only short-range sensors. As soon as John veered off, Brian gave chase. The two ships danced around the Hegh qaD's engine nacelles and forward neck support, neither getting a clean weapons lock.

Back in Jat's office, K'batlh wasn't happy. "This is all fun and games, but if they damage my ship, I'll kill them both! K'batlh to Hegh qaD!"

"Hegh qaD here General!"

"Brush those flies away from my bridge!" Looking at Jat, he added, "Use low powered disrupters, try not to damage them."

John's fingers were dancing across the Laika's consoles when he was struck by fire from another direction. His computer concluded that the damage caused his lateral thrusters to go offline. "Oh, the General wants to play too? Maybe it's time to leave." John rerouted the thruster controls and made a break for the station, Brian hot on his six.

But the Hegh qaD wasn't finished. It took another shot, this time at Brian's fighter, reducing his speed. "Hey! You're supposed to be on my side!" Brian screamed.

Just before the cover of the station, John fired all of his forward thrusters. Brian shot past. Brian reversed his vector as he had before and fired his engines. Once again, both ships faced each other, but this time they were at close range. Weapons fired almost simultaneously!

Both ships shook from the blows. Systems failed, real and simulated. Each drifted on their last course, towards Starbase 410! Inside the Klingon fighter, Brian tried desperately to find a control that worked before they both crashed into the station.

One thing about Klingon fighters is that what little redundancy there is, is devoted entirely to the weapons systems. On Brian's console flashed only one operational system, the externally mounted torpedoes.

On the Laika, John was out of options also. One of his few remaining systems left was Laika's enhanced tractor beam. With nothing else to do, he locked onto Brian's fighter.

Inspiration, aided by a desire to live, caused Brian to reconfigure the torpedo. He set it for short range and no detonation. Then he took the torpedo ejection system offline, got a lock on the Hegh qaD, and fired it.

The two ships, locked together by Laika's tractor beam, flew away from the starbase just before impact. On the fighter, the G-forces caused Brian to black out. The fighter had had about as much as it could take and the last of the operational systems went offline.

John was whipped about the inside of the Laika, but his inertial dampeners kicked in to save him from the worst of the buffeting. After the torpedo had run it's course, the two ships sat facing each other viewport to canopy. John could see Brian unconscious inside the Klingon fighter and air escaping through a crack in the canopy. His console almost dead, John looked around for anything to help Brian.

Now fighters are built for single purposes, and Klingon fighters even more so. Shuttles, on the other hand, are multipurpose vessels, equipped with lots of extra gear. John quickly fastened on a plan of rescue. Putting on his space suit, he emptied the Laika of all of the air and opened the back hatch. The vastness of space peered back at him. John attached his safety line and grabbed his fire extinguisher. Using the propellant, he maneuvered the Laika around Brian's fighter, until the nose of the fighter looked directly into the Laika's interior. John used to the last of the extinguisher's propellant to place the nose of the fighter into the Laika's small cabin.

"I hope he doesn't fire his disrupters now!" John thought.

John rerouted the remaining power into a forcefeild around the nose of the fighter and refilled the cabin with air. He quickly used the emergency canopy open latch on the outside of the fighter, and dragged Brian's unconscious form from the cockpit. With a kick, John sent the Klingon scrap back into space, and closed the back hatch before the last of the power dropped the forcefeild.

Brian came to in total darkness. As he moaned from his injuries, John said, "Don't move. I'm sure by now that the station is sending out a rescue party to pick us up."

"The way I feel, moving is the last thing I want to do." Brian said.

Later, in the pub, the combatants shared drinks while Quek battled the losers in the betting.

"It was a tie! Both ships lost their engines at the same time!" Quek announced. "And in the case of a tie, the house wins all bets!"

"No! The Klingon fighter pilot moved via his torpedo! That counts as independent movement by his ship! The Klingon Pilot wins!"

No! The Federation pilot used his fire extinguisher to move his ship after the Klingon ship couldn't move any more. The Federation pilot wins!"

Brian and John looked at each other. "I think we both won."


End file.
